


Hidden Agendas

by Remasa



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Charity Auctions, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama, F/M, Fashion & Couture, Gabriel is a decent person, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Miraculous Spooktober, Murder Mystery, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remasa/pseuds/Remasa
Summary: After scoring an invitation to the annual Halloween charity fashion auction as one of Adrien's guests, Marinette thinks the night couldn't be a more perfect opportunity to showcase one of her designs. Surrounded by fashion designers, models, and celebrities, her euphoria fades as she soon discovers that a sinister undercurrent hides beneath the gorgeous glitz and glamour of high society. When someone is murdered and Marinette is caught up in the whirlwind of events, she must use her alter-ego's mask to right all the wrongs before time runs out. Will she survive the night and save not only herself, but her friends as well?Written for Miraculous Spooktober 2018.Prompts: Costume contest and Murder MysteryThere is a murder, but it's not gory or detailed or really anything beyond a Nancy Drew-style murder.  A cozy mystery.





	1. Costume Party

_Chapter 1: Costume Party_

_(Spooktober Day 5)_

Marinette sighed as she flipped the page in her fashion magazine. She continued reading, taking a bite of a fruit tart as she devoured the article in front of her.

“Marinette?”

Not even the angelic voice of her crush could penetrate the fog of concentration surrounding the tiny girl.

“Marinette?” Adrien tried again. He tapped her shoulder.

“Waugh!” She jumped at his touch, the magazine and tart both flying out of her hands as she flailed in surprise. Both plopped on the ground. She groaned as she looked at her treat laying smashed on the dirty floor. “That was my favorite,” she mumbled.

Adrien stooped and picked up her magazine, handing it back to her. “I'm sorry, Marinette,” he said, his distress apparent in his eyes as he offered her the now-bent pages of the magazine. “I didn't think I would startle you that much.”

“It's okay, Adrien,” she replied, giving one last forlorn look at the dessert. “I can always get another at home.” She smoothed out the creases in her magazine and tucked it into her bag.

“Ah, well uhm, I wanted to talk to you because well.... you know the fashion show that goes on during Halloween?”

Of course she knew. She was actually in the middle of reading an article about that very event when Adrien had interrupted her. Every year, fashion designers from all over Europe converged in one area for a Halloween charity show, where they debuted elaborate designs and auctioned them off for charity. Everyone dressed in elaborate “costumes” for the event, and famous celebrities always attended, displaying gorgeous dresses and outfits gifted to them by designers. The designer whose outfits won both the most money overall and also the most single bid got implied bragging rights for the rest of the year.

Gabriel Agreste claimed both titles the previous three years.

This year, the event was to take place in Paris – specifically, in the Grand Paris Hotel. And Marinette sighed as she imagined watching the event from the TV with her parents, or maybe she would transform into her alter-ego and sneak out and get a better view of the people coming and going so she could drool over the amazing costumes.

“Yeah, of course,” she answered.

Adrien smiled. “Of course you would,” he repeated. “I know you're probably really excited about it.”

“Definitely! I can't wait to see pictures of all the amazing costumes this year!”

“Uhm, well,” Adrien trailed off, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, “you probably know that my father goes every year, as well.”

“He's won bragging rights for the last few years.”

“Yeah, you wouldn't really know it from looking at him, but he really gets into this event. Well, he used to at least. My mother really enjoyed it – it was her favorite fashion show of the entire year.”

“Your father always releases amazing designs during that charity event! I love seeing what he creates every year!”

Adrien chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Yeah, well anyway, he got a bunch of tickets for his models to attend. But he doesn't have that many models, so he gave me a few extra to give to my friends.”

“That was really...” _unusual, out-of-character, unlike the cold Gabriel Agreste everyone knew,_ “...nice of him.”

He quirked a grin at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Nice. Sure. Don't worry, I asked him what was going on, and he insisted that I invite my closest friends.” Adrien leaned in close to her and her heart fluttered into overdrive. “I think Chloe's father implied that I would be her date and my father freaked out.”

Marinette freaked out, too. Adrien show up as Chloe's date? Ack! Turns out that was one more thing that she and Gabriel Agreste shared: a dislike of the spoiled brat.

“Anyway, my father said just to tell him who I wanted to bring. I was thinking you, of course, because you like fashion. And Nino and Alya would make up the rest. So, what do you say?”

She held in the squeal of delight. Almost. “I would love to attend,” she informed him in her most professional voice after she took a few seconds to compose herself.

His face broke out into a huge smile that threatened to shatter that composure. “Great! Thanks, Marinette! I'll go talk to Nino and Alya. Oh, I know that I'll be wearing my father's designs, and he said if needed he could provide something for you guys, too. I know you like designing, though, so I told him I would get back to him. So what do you say? Do you want to try to design your own outfit or wear one of my father's creations?”

Oh the dilemma. On one hand, it would probably be the only time she would be able to wear a genuine, original Gabriel Agreste dress. On the other hand, this would be the perfect opportunity to showcase her own designs.

What to choose?

She bit her lip. “I think... I want to try to design my own outfit.”

His smile didn't fade. If anything, it grew wider. “I thought you might say that,” he said. “I'll inform Father. He'll be surprised you declined, so be prepared to have him critique your outfit. Don't take it personally, though, he'll just want to see what you're capable of.”

This time she did release her excited squeal. Gabriel Agreste critiquing _her_ design? Advice and constructive criticism from her idol? It was a dream come true!

Adrien laughed. “I've never heard anyone get so excited about my father critiquing them. I'll tell him to be gentle on you, but most of the time he doesn't know the meaning of that word. He's scared away lots of designers and left many others in tears.”

Tears of _joy_ maybe! She was so excited she couldn't stop wiggling in place, even after Adrien's warnings. He laughed once more as her enthusiasm didn't appear to be waning anytime soon, despite his cautions.

“Oh, there's Nino and Alya over there,” he said. “I'll go tell them about the charity event. See you later, Marinette. I can't wait to see what you come up with.”

With a pat on her shoulder for support, Adrien headed over to intercept his best friend before they went into class. As he disappeared from view, the euphoria of the last several minutes faded and a more realistic emotion set in.

“Oh no, Tikki, this is horrible! What am I going to design?”

 

* * *

 

After a solid week of locking herself in her room, only to emerge for food, school, and akuma attacks, Marinette finally created the perfect costume.

Even if Tikki only reluctantly agreed with her plan. It was dangerous, her kwami argued, but she conceded it was a brilliant scheme if Marinette could use that to identify potential Hawkmoth suspects. But at the cost of potentially alienating herself from other designers in the fashion industry?

“But Tikki, it's Halloween. Allowances will be made. Just look at other costumes from around the world.”

At last, after many back-and-forth arguments between the two of them, the red sprite agreed with Marinette. As the day approached, she made sure she kept her design hidden from everyone else. Not even Alya got to see it. Marinette asked Adrien if his father wanted to approve her costume before the event, because she would be there on behalf of his name and didn't want to damage his reputation if Mr. Agreste decided her outfit didn't live up to his standards. After relaying her message to his father, Adrien reported that the elder designer wanted to be surprised along with everyone else. He apparently remembered her submission from the hat contest and told Adrien that he had faith she wouldn't disappoint him.

That did nothing to ease her nerves. If Mr. Agreste pre-approved her outfit, then at least she would have had one person supporting her at the charity auction. As it was, she was going in blind, with a risky costume, at what could arguably be considered her fashion debut.

She gulped as she stared at herself in the mirror. The tiny crystals she had meticulously applied to the outer edges of her eyes, trailing down her temple and ending just below her ear, twinkled in the light as they hinted at an outline of her face. She smoothed her dress, tugging at the sheer overlay on the skirt and adjusting the silky ribbon around her waist. A quick twirl to ensure everything looked okay, and she grabbed her purse, motioned to Tikki to swoop in, and headed downstairs.

After her parents oohed and aahed over her dress, peppering her with dozens of questions about her inspiration and snapping several pictures, Marinette finally metaphorically pried herself away from their grasp and darted out of the bakery, aiming for the hotel in the fading light. As it was only a short distance away, she declined to be driven there by her father and reveled in the excited anticipation of the first glimpse of everyone dressed up in exquisite costumes.

As the lights of the hotel came into view, the crowd of media and gawkers surrounded the entrance. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered to a frenetic high as her breathing quickened. She froze.

“I changed my mind, Tikki, this was a stupid idea,” she mumbled.

Her purse cracked open. “You look amazing, Marinette. And like you said earlier, this is Halloween. It's a time for pretend and make-believe.”

“I should have gone with another theme. This was stupid. So stupid. What was I thinking?”

“You were thinking like a Ladybug, and it's a brilliant idea.”

“Mr. Agreste is going to be so horrified he endorsed me. Adrien will hate me for embarrassing him. Alya won't want to be associated with someone like me. She's such a fan of Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

“Marinette! Get in there right now! You've worked extra hard on this outfit and you look gorgeous!”

With a gulp of reluctance, she willed her feet to step forward, all the while still muttering about how she should have gone with a safer costume.

She reached the edge of the carpet (of course André Bourgeois would have literally rolled out the red carpet) and hesitantly stepped onto it. All around her, cameras flashed as people stared at her. She squared her shoulders and confidently walked past the murmurs and whispers and stopped in front of the guard at the door.

“Here's my ticket, sir,” she said, handing him the embossed card that Adrien had given to her the previous day. Mr. Agreste waited until the last minute to distribute the tickets because he didn't want any of the teens to lose them.

The guard examined the ticket and nodded at her, moving aside to let her pass.

“The registration for the silent auction is over to the right,” he said, pointing to a table just inside the door.

She thanked him, and two steps later, she was inside.

She thought she would have been one of the first people there, but to her surprise there was already a fair number of guests milling around. Many adults, several teenagers, and one or two famous faces (she spotted two designers she recognized and an actor). Most people carried glasses filled with sparkling liquid and she glimpsed many caterers walking between the guests with trays of glasses and food. More tables lined the walls full of different kinds of food, and after looking around and seeing none of her friends, she decided to make herself blend in more and headed over to occupy her hands with a glass of juice. After signing up for the auction, of course. That was the whole point of the charity.

She went up to the table.

“Hello,” she said, timid and nervous.

“Hello there,” one of the older ladies smiled at her. “Are you here to register for the silent auction?”

She nodded.

“Great! Just fill out this form with your name and the name of the designer or company you're representing.” She slid a clipboard with a pen attached over to Marinette.

“I'm not representing anyone,” she said. “I mean, I'm here on invitation from Gabriel Agreste, but I designed my own dress with his permission. I'm not using his name at all.”

“Then fill in your name for both spots,” the woman told her, pointing to the relevant areas. She handed a number over to her and Marinette clipped it onto part of her black ribbon sash that crossed over her shoulders in an X shape, mimicking the lapels of a suit. “That's so others can see which number to bid on,” she explained.

“How does the bidding work exactly?” Marinette asked. “I've never been to something like this before.”

The woman smiled at her. “That's quite all right, young lady. There are plenty of first timers here, This is a silent auction, which means that people will come and fill out their bids on the different sheets here.” She held up a blank form. At the top was her number, followed by the rules of the auction. “Minimum bids start at €5.000 and increases in increments of €500. When the bid reaches €25.000 the minimum bid will increase to €1.000. At the end of the night the outfit that got the single highest bid along with the designer who got the highest cumulative bids are announced.”

“No one is going to spend €5.000 on my dress! I'm not even a real designer,” Marinette gasped. “Maybe I shouldn't enter. I'll be the only one without a bid.”

The lady smiled at her. “I think your dress is amazing,” she said, and Marinette didn't detect any kind of pity or deception from her, “and I've seen plenty of outfits here. I've worked this auction every year for the last ten years, and I assure you that every single outfit gets at least one bid. It's for charity. As for your age... well I couldn't tell that your outfit wasn't designed by a professional. And the designers are anonymous,” she pointed to the bold number at the top of the sheet, the only identifying feature on the form, “so that no one can bid on an outfit based solely on who designed it. Of course, some of them will be obvious, but there still ends up being quite a lot of anonymity with the entire process. The designers love it, too, because they'll get feedback on which of their ideas succeeded and failed. They rather enjoy the whole process.”

The lady's sincere praise helped relax her and Marinette finished up registering for the auction and decided to commit to her previous intention of getting some food and drink to mingle in with the crowd. The registration had taken a while, so by the time she had finished, a fair amount of people now swarmed the hotel's conference rooms. All of the people at the registration table were conversing with applicants, and many more milled around. She smiled at the lady and left the table, aiming for the comforts of home – bakery treats!

With each step inward, her shoulders released tension as she realized no one was going to intersect her and scream at her about her choice of a costume. She still couldn't see any of her friends (and thankfully not Chloé either), but there appeared to be several registration tables set up, so maybe they were scattered around the room. Her own dress received several appreciative stares as she wove her way through the throng of people, and that helped bolster her confidence. By the time she reached the buffet table, she actually got to enjoy seeing some of the dresses.

Like the dress that was different layered shades of orange and brown, complete with splashes of gold and yellow to mimic a jack-o-lantern that would have looked silly on anyone except the willowy mocha-skinned lady. Marinette suspected with her porcelain looks and elegant poise that she could make anything look amazing.

And the gentlemen also had works of art. She spotted many variations of Dracula costumes, and one or two ghosts – pure white except for discrete pops of color to accent the pale suits.

She spent a long time staring at all of the beauty around her, absorbing every rich detail, when a sultry voice behind her caught her attention.

“Hello.”

Marinette turned and found herself staring into the gorgeous green eyes of Chat Noir. Her mouth dropped open.

“Chat?”

Sunshine blond hair splayed messily across his head. His green eyes glowed with mirth as he smiled at her. He was dressed in a black suit (of course) with gold trim and a lime green shirt. A gold bowtie completed the ensemble. It took her breath away.

He bowed to her. “Of course, my fair lady,” he intoned, taking her gloved hand and placing a delicate kiss over her knuckles. He rose from his slight bow and dropped her hand. “I'm Kylian,” he said in a more normal tone of voice. “I couldn't help but see you standing here all alone and had to come over to say hello.”

Was this really Chat Noir in the flesh? He certainly looked the part, complete with the confident suave flirts.

“I'm Marinette,” she greeted.

“It is certainly the highlight of my night to be introduced to someone as beautiful as yourself,” he said, and she flushed. He tilted his head as he examined her costume. “But what is your dress supposed to represent?”

She planted one hand on her hip. “Don't you recognize your archenemy?” she questioned with a grin.

His eyes traveled from her headband decorated with streams of tiny white butterflies that trailed in her hair like a bridal veil, to the butterfly outline in pink crystals on her face, to the purple, black and silver themed dress she wore. She finished off the ensemble with black heels and tiny butterflies on the top.

Kylian's eyebrows shot up as he appraised her with an appreciative smile. “If I had known Hawkmoth was a beautiful lady such as yourself, I would have surrendered my Miraculous immediately,” he confessed.

She giggled. “There's still time to join me, Chat Noir,” she teased.

“I look forward to it,” he said. “Who are you representing? That dress is seriously amazing. Erm, I'm sorry,” he apologized immediately, waving his hands in front of his face. “I know a lot of the designers swear their models to secrecy. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“Uhm, it's okay. I'm here on invitation from Gabriel Agreste, but I'm not wearing his design. I made this myself.”

“You... what?”

She nodded, a bit shy, picking at the ribbon around her waist. “Yeah, Mr. Agreste said I could wear my own design tonight, so I decided to make this one.”

“It looks fantastic, but I have to ask: why Hawkmoth? That's a bit controversial, isn't it?” Kylian asked.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But it's Halloween! It's the perfect night to pretend to be villains and evil creatures.” She motioned around her. “Look at all the vampires we're seeing tonight.”

Kylian chuckled. “Well, that is quite a bold move, Marinette. I must say I am intrigued by that boldness. And don't worry, I won't give away your secret.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What secret?”

He pointed to her dress. “That you designed that. Let the gossip queens play their guessing games as to which designer outdid themselves in creating this masterpiece.”

Another flush covered her cheeks. “You really think this is good?”

“It's the best one I've seen yet.”

A genuine smile appeared on her face, wiping away a good portion of her doubt. “Thank you.”

“Well, I must get back to showing off my own costume on behalf of my employer, but I hope to see more of you tonight,” he said, once again reaching for her knuckles and kissing them. “Of course, we still have our final battle, naturally.” He winked at her.

She laughed with him. “You'll never defeat me and my akumas, Chat Noir,” she teased.

His hand lingered in hers for a moment longer than necessary as his eyes burned into hers. “I look forward to giving it my best shot,” he said before dropping her hand and turning around to melt back into the crowd, leaving her gaping at his vanishing form.

Was that the real Chat Noir? In his civilian persona? She had to admit he certainly took her breath away and the smooth mannerisms definitely fit.

“Be still my beating heart,” she mumbled, and she heard a tiny tinkle of laughter coming from her amethyst colored purse.

She turned back to her food, mulling over the scenario of Kylian being her partner.

“Hey girl!”

Marinette whirled around at the familiar voice, eager to glimpse the magic that Gabriel Agreste would have cast on her best friend.

Alya and Nino stood there, smiling at her. Nino was dressed in an ivory white suit from head to toe that would have appeared unremarkable except for the fact that upon closer examination, the suit seemed to be layered. Ridges overlapped the sleeves and pants. He wore a black vest embroidered with tiny gold ankhs under the layered jacket. Tiny gold embroidered serpents wove up from his wrists ending just past where the buttons would end, complete with turquoise cuff links. Nino straightened his teal bowtie with a wink.

Alya twirled slightly from side to side, revealing multiple colorful layers of ruffles and fabric. Pinks, blacks, yellows, greens and reds all combined into a tasteful gradient, accented in white. Dozens of tiny flowers and miniature skulls dotted her dress. Marinette could get lost in the colors for hours – a mesmerizing blend of beauty and intricacy. It reminded Marinette of a Spanish flamenco dancer, but those weren't related to Halloween, were they? She pursed her lips in puzzlement for a moment before gasping with understanding.

“Oh! A mummy and the Day of the Dead! Oh my gosh you guys look _amazing_! Wow that.... oh wow Nino your vest...” She peered to get a closer look at the embroidery. “That is simply astounding. I never would have gotten the inspiration to do a homage to a mummy like this,” she said. “And the Day of the Dead... the colors, the flowers... wow! I love them both!”

“Thank you.”

Marinette turned to the new voice. Gabriel Agreste stood there, his hands clasped behind his back in his usual formal pose, but a tiny smile appeared on his lips. He was clearly pleased to hear Marinette's praise. Next to him was Adrien, grinning at her from underneath a floppy hat with a fantastically oversized feather.

“Mr. Agreste! Adrien! I uh... I love your designs.”

“Thank you, Miss Marinette,” Mr. Agreste repeated. He spent a moment to appraise her outfit and she in turn studied his and Adrien's (trying _really hard_ not to just gaze with starry-eyed adoration at her crush).

Mr. Agreste was dressed more simply than the others, in a black and white suit. Marinette blinked as she examined the cuts and decisions of color, before realizing that the white on the outfit drew the eye to its form – that of a skeleton.

“Wow!” she gushed again. “That's an amazing skeleton,” she said, and Mr. Agreste's smile reappeared. “I love how you managed to manipulate the light and dark fabrics. It really creates a great optical illusion by utilizing negative space. That must have been quite a challenge.”

“It was,” he admitted.

She turned her focus to Adrien, willing the blush in her cheeks to remain subdued to a light pink. _He's so handsome!_ She could swim for days in the pools of his eyes and bask in the warmth of his smile. She would have spent hours staring at him, but the the red feather in his hat twitched and that snapped her back to reality. She pointed to it.

“Aren't you allergic?” she questioned.

“Ah, it's not a real feather,” Adrien answered.

“That's good!”

“Yeah.”

She smiled at him for a moment before Alya poked her, shaking her out of her trance. Her eyes traveled down the rest of the costume. A bit fancy, in a several centuries past kind of way, with overly ruffled lace sleeves and a gold-embroidered velvet vest under a black jacket with stylized crosses and extravagant embroidery all along the edges.

“Okay, I'm stumped,” she confessed.

“I'm one of the Three Musketeers,” Adrien declared with a grin. He swept his hat off his head and bowed low. “At your service, Milady.”

Marinette laughed. “Didn't Milady get executed?”

Adrien blanched. “Well...” he stammered, his grin fading as he struggled for a reason to turn this back around to his favor.

She giggled again. “It's okay, Adrien. Or should I call you Aramis tonight?”

His grin returned. “Aramis was the handsome one. I'll take that. But let's talk about your costume, Marinette! It's amazing! What made you decide to dress up as Hawkmoth?”

She supposed that would be the prevailing question of the evening. Thinking back to Kylian and his sassy flirtations, Marinette leaned forward and tugged on Adrien's ruffled ascot. “Maybe I'm just tired of being a hero all the time,” she told him, dropping her hand with a wink. She laughed at the open-mouthed expression of astonishment that appeared on his face. “I'm teasing, Adrien,” she laughed. “But it's Halloween, and it's the one night I can flex my talents by trying something new. So many people have done homages to Ladybug and Chat Noir, myself included. I wanted to present something different. Hawkmoth shouldn't have the monopoly on butterflies, or the color purple.” She smoothed her skirt at the end of it, a bit nervous now that she confessed her reasons.

A hand rested upon her shoulder and she stared back up into those green eyes. “I think you did a fantastic job, Marinette. Your design just proves how talented you are. Maybe it'll start showing Paris that Hawkmoth isn't some faceless entity to be feared.”

“Exactly,” she said, gratitude filling her as Adrien supported her decision. “Thanks for understanding.”

“I agree with my son, Miss Marinette,” Mr. Agreste spoke up. “Though I am a bit more interested in hearing your thought process behind the piece. Hawkmoth is a touchy subject among Parisians, and no doubt your classmates would agree. Did you have any other motivations behind your decisions?”

The tiny smile remained on his face, but Marinette had spent enough time around reporters to know when someone was prying deeper, hiding their true intentions behind casual questions. She recognized the sharpening of his eyes as he studied her face for any betrayal of emotion. It would appear he saw through the flippant explanation she told Adrien.

“Only, perhaps, to stand out from the crowd,” she answered, sticking with her cover story. No way would she reveal she was testing the waters for a reaction to narrow down potential Hawkmoth suspects. And something in his demeanor told her maybe she should reconsider her previous acquittal and restore his name back to that list.

Or maybe she was just overthinking his analysis. After all, he _did_ get akumatized. And Adrien _did_ warn her his father would be extra critical of her dress.

“Hmm.” Mr. Agreste held her gaze for a few seconds longer before blinking and shifting his attention to the rest of her costume. Marinette refrained from sagging in relief. The last thing she wanted was someone as clever as Gabriel Agreste poking around into her alter-ego's identity. Maybe she could tell him later that she was inspired by images in his book when she had it in her possession temporarily.

“I am particularly intrigued by the little details you've worked into it,” Mr. Agreste continued to appraise her design, “from the tiny white butterflies in your hairpiece down to your shoes. I can tell at this distance that the labor work is stellar. Layering the silver sheer fabrics over the purple skirt and black ribbon around your waist couldn't have been easy, but you succeeded in an incredibly tricky task. I feel it pulls the entire dress together, blending the colors effortlessly and segueing from one part of the outfit to the next. All in all, a very exquisite piece. My sincerest compliments, Miss Marinette.”

She stood there, mouth agape. “T-thank you so much, Mr. Agreste!” she exclaimed.

“You're welcome. Adrien, there are some people I must speak with. I assume you'll be happier remaining with your friends than trailing along with me?”

“Oh, could I, Father?”

“Of course.” Mr. Agreste leveled a look at the four teenagers. “As this is a charity auction, the people have to see your outfits in order to bid. I do request that you refrain from grouping together too tightly, as it may turn off people from examining the outfits in greater detail. Adrien, stay with one of your friends at all times, understood?”

The four of them nodded. “Yes, Mr. Agreste,” they all intoned. His eyes swept over them one last time, studying them to see if anything was amiss before turning away away and disappearing into the ever-growing crowd of people.

“Well, you heard what Mr. Agreste said,” Alya said with a grin. “We can't cluster together.” She snatched Nino's hand and spun around. “Have fun, you two!” she called over her shoulder.

“Wait, Alya!” Marinette cried out after her. Her friend ignored her and vanished into the crowd like Mr. Agreste. Within seconds, the sea of costumed people had swallowed her friends up.

“Come on, let me introduce you to some of the other designers.” The warm voice of Adrien snapped her out of her ire at Alya. She tilted her head to him, meeting his green eyes as they crinkled at her.

“What?”

“Just because I'm not with my father doesn't mean I don't know some of the other big names here,” Adrien explained. “I know you're probably super excited to meet them. It'll give me a chance to brag about your skills.”

“Won't your father want you to talk about his designs instead?” She didn't want to encroach upon Gabriel's marketing time.

“Nah, he loved your outfit. And he really doesn't want anyone to know which are his designs until the end of the night. He says that prevents people from actively bidding against him. I've seen a few more of his models around here. Everyone will probably just assume yours is by him, too. That's probably the only fun thing about this event: figuring out who designed what.” A playful smirk appeared on his face and Marinette's vision swam as another familiar blond-haired boy smirked at her in the same manner, superimposing itself over Adrien's face. She blinked, and the second image faded.

“O-okay, if you insist,” she began.

“I do.”

And with that, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the comfort of the food table and into the lion's den.

With a muffled squeak, she allowed herself to be dragged out into the crowd. Adrien deftly maneuvered them until he spotted a trio of people standing in a semi-circle on the edge of one of the tables. He tightened his grip upon her hand.

“Eep! Adrien, that's Lucrèce Gilles!”

“I know,” came his reply.

“Adrien! I can't talk to him! He's like the pioneer of modern fashion trends in the younger generation. I've dreamed about his designs since I was a child. He's thought to have influenced your father's decision to go into designing.”

“Yeah, I know. Father's often said that he used to be a mentor to him when he was first starting out. Now he's not too fond of him. Thinks he's too stuffy. Which is a bit rich, coming from Father. I don't know why they had a falling out, but he's still nice to me whenever we see each other.”

“You're seriously dragging me over to talk to one of your father's rivals? Do you hate me? Are you trying to get your father to blacklist me?”

Adrien laughed. “Relax. Father still respects Lucrèce Gilles. He won't hold it against you.” He stopped and turned to her, and she stumbled to the side to avoid running into the back of him. “I promise.”

And just like that, she melted with a trust reserved only for her partner. She did trust Adrien. And not just because of her crush on him. She couldn't identify exactly why his words calmed her, but she didn't argue with her gut feeling. “Okay,” she agreed.

Adrien broke out into a smile again and continued pulling her over to the group of people. In addition to Lucrèce Gilles, there was also a younger lady in her early twenties dressed in what Marinette would describe as a mermaid outfit – the lower skirt shimmered and gleamed like scales in the light and the gossamer fabric on top reminded her of ocean foam. Her smooth raven-colored hair cascaded down her back, emphasizing the wave-like features of the sea. Beside her stood the lady who wore the pumpkin dress that caught her attention when she first arrived. Adrien lingered on the fringes of the circle until Mr. Gilles noticed him.

“Ah, Adrien, my boy!” he greeted. “Come on over here.” The designer waved him into the circle. Adrien smiled and grabbed Marinette's hand, tugging her along with him. “How have you been?”

“I've been doing well, Mr. Gilles,” Adrien said. “And yourself?”

“Excellent! Can't complain! Who is this lovely lady beside you? Your date for the evening?”

Marinette flushed, sneaking a peek at Adrien and noticing the tips of his ears turning red as well. “Not quite, Mr. Gilles,” he answered, “let me introduce my good friend Marinette Dupain-Cheng who is interested in fashion. She wants to be a designer when she gets out of school. Marinette, this is Mr. Lucrèce Gilles.”

“A pleasure,” Mr. Gilles said, grasping her hand in his and bending over her knuckles. He stood a head taller than her, built lean and wiry like a panther. His salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back out of his face and secured into a tight ponytail that just barely brushed the collar of his jacket. After nearly thirty years in the business, age did nothing to diminish Lucrèce Gilles' emanating presence and power. She wondered if all fashion designers emitted the same fearsome intimidation, but then the older man smiled and the atmosphere seemed to lighten. Though he still held the same power and sway as Gabriel Agreste, Mr. Gilles' smile and the crow's feet around his eyes gave an impression of a doting grandfather rather than a fashion empire magnate.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Gilles! I'm a huge fan of yours.”

“Ah, thank you, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Do give my regards to your father, Adrien. I see his designing talents have improved since I last encountered him.” Mr. Gilles eyed the two of them. “Your dress especially piques my interest. It's refreshing to see Gabriel not stick to his trite designs of yesteryear and leap forward to embrace today's growing market. Even if his decisions are controversial, I must admit that I do like his style. If it wasn't for the fact it was his design, I might actually bid on the dress myself.”

“Thank you, Lucrèce.” Everyone turned to see the man in question standing a little bit away. Mr. Agreste walked up to the group. “But despite your poor attempt to suss out my designs, I shall give you this small tidbit: Miss Marinette is not wearing one of my creations.” Mr. Agreste leveled an extremely smug look at his rival as he lifted a glass to his lips and took a sip.

Mr. Gilles' eyebrows rose high. “You're lying,” he accused. “You wouldn't let one of your models show up in anything other than your work.”

“Miss Marinette is not one of my models. She's a school friend of my son's. And I assure you I am not lying. Check the bid sheet if you want. You'll notice my name on that list.”

Marinette paled. Mr. Agreste bid on her dress? But the minimum bid was €5.000! There was no way someone like him would bid so much on a dress designed by a student.

The older man laughed. “It's against the rules to bid on your own designs, Gabriel.”

“I know.” Another sip of drink. “That should tell you that she is not dressed in one of mine.” He motioned toward the auction table with his glass. “Go ahead and check.”

“If she's not wearing one of your dresses, then who is she wearing?” the elder designer demanded.

“Ah ah, that's against the rules, Lucrèce,” Mr. Agreste tutted.

“But _you_ know,” he accused.

“She told me,” Mr. Agreste said, calm and collected. His gaze slid back over to Marinette. “But that was before she was aware of the social rules surrounding this event. I think she's been briefed in the interim and you'll find yourself hard-pressed to pry any additional secrets from her.”

All eyes turned to her and she blushed. “I'm sorry, I didn't know that it was a guessing game between everyone.”

“Don't worry, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Mr. Gilles assured her. “That just means I won't feel extra guilty bidding on your dress, knowing it's not Gabriel's.”

Mr. Agreste favored the group with one last knowing smile before lifting the glass to his lips and finishing it off. “I'll take my leave now. Do play nice, Lucrèce.”

He wandered away.

“Pardon me,” Marinette said, excusing herself from the conversation. “I'll be right back.” She turned and darted after Mr. Agreste, catching up with him after a couple of seconds. “Mr. Agreste,” she called after him.

He paused and twisted around, allowing her enough time to approach him without dashing across the room. “Did you need something else, Miss Marinette?”

“Uhm, you bid on my dress?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” she blurted out. “I'm not a designer and I didn't know that these dresses would be auctioned off for so much and it's not made by anyone special and you really didn't have to bid on my dress. So, why did you?”

Mr. Agreste settled one hand upon her shoulder to halt her ramblings. “I like it,” he said, simple and direct.

“My dress?”

“Yes. You'll find that I'm not the only one who's placed a bid, either,” he informed her.

“ _What_?”

A ghost of a grin flickered across his face at her astonished outburst. “It would appear you've turned quite a few heads, Miss Marinette, and I suspect you'll turn a lot more before the night is over. Please excuse me.” He released her shoulder and walked away.

She stood there for a few more seconds, stunned at his revelation that not only did her _idol_ bid on her dress, but so did _other people_. Her dress! Her design! Her legs wobbled with the rush of adrenaline that flushed through her. She didn't know how she made her way back to Adrien in her shocked state.

“Are you okay?” he whispered to her as she approached.

“People are bidding on my dress,” she whispered back.

“Hey, that's great!” he praised.

“It's insane! I'm not... this isn't... wow....”

Adrien chuckled at her astonishment. “I think that's what Father said the first time his designs were showcased and bid upon. At least that's what my mom used to say to tease him.”

“Well, Miss Dupain-Cheng, I think I'll head over to the auction tables to place my own bid. I can't let Gabriel beat me for that lovely dress of yours,” Mr. Gilles said once she arrived again. “It's been a pleasure to meet you and I hope to talk to you again before the night is over.”

Marinette snapped out of her daze and smiled at him. “Thank you, Mr. Gilles.”

The older designer stepped by them both, bending and whispering something into Adrien's ear as he passed. Adrien beamed at him and nodded, to which Mr. Gilles hummed in approval before leaving.

That left the mermaid-themed girl and the pumpkin lady staring at Adrien and Marinette.

“Well, that was certainly exciting,” the pumpkin lady said, her eyes twinkling as she smiled. “Your father has a unique way of motivating people,” she said to Adrien.

He sighed. “You have no idea,” he said. “I think you caught him on a good day,” he joked.

The two ladies laughed.

“Forgive me,” Adrien apologized. “I've been rude. Marinette, this is Gwendolyn,” he pointed to the pumpkin lady who nodded in greeting, “and Kira.” The mermaid lady waved at her. She smiled and waved back. “They're free-contract models, so we're not supposed to know who designed their dresses,” Adrien said. “They've both worked with Father before as well.”

“I love your dresses!” Marinette exclaimed. She turned to Gwendolyn. “I saw your dress almost immediately when I came in and I thought that you looked amazing in it! I could never pull off something like that. And that mermaid dress is so pretty! I love the way that it makes it look like you're actually in water.”

Both ladies smiled at her. “Thank you,” Gwendolyn said. “I noticed your dress almost instantly, too. You were registering at the table and I couldn't help but be amazed at the details on your dress. Lucrèce was right in wanting to bid on it.”

“Kylian told me about your dress,” Kira added. “He said it was amazing and I needed to keep an eye out for it. He wasn't wrong.”

“You know Kylian?” Marinette asked.

“Wait, _you_ know Kylian?” Adrien directed at Marinette.

She nodded. “We met before you arrived,” she explained. She gasped and clamped her hands over her mouth. “He didn't tell you who designed my dress, did he?”

“Kylian knows?” Adrien exclaimed.

Kira shook her head. “He said it was a secret.”

“Oh phew,” Marinette breathed out. Kylian had kept her secret. Maybe he was her partner after all. Chat always honored her wishes, even when it went against what he really desired. “Such a loyal kitty,” she mused with a smile.

Adrien choked beside her. “ _What_?” he croaked out.

Kira and Gwendolyn laughed at the blond's dismay. “Oh, Adrien, you haven't seen him yet? He's dressed up like Chat Noir,” Gwendolyn said.

“He looks pretty good in that suit,” Kira added. “Almost like the real thing.”

“Mhmm,” Marinette hummed in appreciation, a smile appearing on face.

Adrien's eyes flashed over to her. “What's _that_ supposed to mean?” he demanded, turning to Marinette.

She blushed under the scrutiny. “All I'm saying is that he does the image of Chat Noir justice. That's all!”

“Oh, really?”

“He does fill out that suit really nicely. I wonder if he would look that good in leather,” Kira mused. She winked at Gwendolyn and both of them watched Adrien's face grow steadily pinker.

“You know he would,” Gwendolyn agreed.

By now, Adrien's face flamed beet red. The two girls burst out laughing. “Relax, Adrien,” Kira said. “We're just teasing you. You should see how much you're blushing.”

“You're the Ladybug to Kylian's Chat Noir.”

“That would mean I would need both of your Miraculouses,” Marinette chimed in. “I'll control you both.”

“I wouldn't mind that,” Adrien mumbled.

“ _What_?” Marinette exclaimed. Kira and Gwendolyn exchanged wide grins.

Adrien blinked as his words caught up to his brain. “I-I mean, if Hawkmoth is someone as nice as you, then there's no way you could do anything evil with the Miraculouses, right?”

Kira rolled her eyes behind Adrien's back. Gwendolyn grabbed the younger model's arm. “Kira, I think we're needed.”

“Uh, yeah. I see uh... yeah... pointing...” Kira quickly picked up on Gwendolyn's cues.

“I don't see anyone pointing,” Adrien said, peering around.

Another eye roll behind his back at the blond's obliviousness. “Well they are. Pointing. At us. So we have to get going. See you around!”

And the two ladies took off, leaving Adrien to face Marinette once more. “So uhm,” Adrien said, scratching the back of his neck as he struggled to find something to say. “Want to dance?”

“Me?”

He nodded.

She gulped. “S-sure.”

“Great!” He grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor, just in time for the music to begin playing a slow song.

She rested her arms around Adrien. After one or two awkward starts and stepping on Adrien's toes, Marinette relaxed and the two swayed to a gentle rhythm. She sighed. She got praise on her dress, people actually bid on it, she got to meet one of her fashion idols (second to Mr. Agreste, of course) and she was dancing with Adrien. And no Chloé in sight to dampen the evening for her.

This was perfect.

And nothing could ruin it.

How wrong she was.


	2. Murder Mystery

_Chapter 2 – Murder Mystery_

The song drew to a close and Adrien released her with a warm smile. She returned it even as a pang of longing shot through her. He tugged her off the floor.

"Now that you're a bit more relaxed, do you want to meet some more designers?" he asked with a grin.

"Eep!" She squeezed his hand on reflex and he laughed.

"I guess not," he joked. He tightened his grip upon hers as his smile widened. "Too bad. I'm going to praise you to every single designer in this room tonight," he vowed.

"Adrien!" she nearly shrieked as he pulled her to one side.

He stopped and turned back to her with a serious expression on his face. "Marinette," he said, and she stilled at the somber tone, "we can treat this night one of two ways. One, you can ignore the amazing opportunity in front of you and simply enjoy this night like Alya and Nino: a fun party to play around at."

She blinked.

He continued. "Or two, you can allow me to help you get some contacts in the fashion world that will inevitably help you later on when you want an internship. I won't try to force you into any decision. I had thought that after my father's approval you would finally understand that you are talented enough to be recognized and not shunned, but if you're not comfortable with that, I can stop promoting you and just let you enjoy the night. So, which is it? I won't be angry with either decision. I know that it's quite a lot to overwhelm you right away, meeting all these designers."

She stared into his green eyes, and for once her heart didn't flutter at the sight. Adrien was offering her an opportunity that any fledgling designer would kill to accept. She had to stop thinking so negatively of her designs. She received nothing but praise on her dress, from laypeople such as the lady who registered her to professionals such as Gabriel Agreste and Lucrèce Gilles.

She bit her lip as she debated. "Does your father ever worry his designs aren't good enough?" she asked, voicing aloud one of her biggest insecurities.

He laughed and the response startled her. She stared at him in shock. "All the time," Adrien said with a reassuring smile. "He doesn't say as much in front of me anymore, but I picked up on the signs when I was younger. He was always fretting about something or other, staying up late into the night to fix the tiniest details before Mom would drag him to bed, claiming 'creativity doesn't work on an exhausted mind'. He almost had a panic attack before his first show. He swore the press would verbally rip him apart and his dreams of designing would spiral down the toilet." Adrien grinned and poked her shoulder. "He's a lot like you, actually."

Marinette didn't know what to say to that. The fact that her idol still fretted about debuting designs somehow steadied her nerves. She met Adrien's eyes. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry for acting so difficult when you and your father have done so much for me tonight." She smiled. "Go on, introduce me to your friends. Just... please ignore some fangirl squeals once in a while, okay?"

He nodded to her and squeezed her hand. "You're in safe hands," he assured her. And this time, her heart _did_ flutter anew. He steered her through the crowd, craning his head left and right as if he was looking for the right people. Celebrities and local bigwigs he ignored, though Marinette did manage a quick wave to Jagged Stone, who returned it with his signature rock-and-roll hand sign and an eyebrow waggle as he pointed to Adrien. She blushed at the rock star's knowing smile.

"Mr. Casimir."

Marinette didn't even notice Adrien guiding her in a steady path until he called out to a dark-haired man a little bit ahead of them holding a drink with a black-gloved hand. The man turned at his name and Marinette bit back a gasp of surprise as she recognized Cyril Casimir, another fashion designer. He was dressed entirely in black, but some of the fabrics and embroidery caught the light and reflected, while others absorbed the light and deflected attention. A single white lily was attached to his lapel as a boutonnière and a tarnished silver pocketwatch stretched across his vest. Those were the only non-black items on his entire outfit. He smiled as they approached.

"Hello, Adrien."

Did Adrien know _every_ single designer here? Marinette certainly believed he did. She gulped. Adrien tightened his hand on hers, as if he could sense her agitation.

"I'd like you to meet someone," her crush continued, turning to Marinette. "This is my guest for the evening, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Marinette, allow me to introduce Mr. Cyril Casimir."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Casimir," Marinette said with a huge smile. "I'm a big fan of your work. I love your outfit. The embroidery really adds a nice subtle effect to the entire design. Even though it's entirely black, you've created depth by alternating shiny fabrics like satin with matte ones. Even the thread in the embroidery is a brilliant addition. Are you paying homage to a specific costume?"

"Thank you, Miss Marinette," he answered with a warm smile. "That's certainly nice to hear. Yes, in fact I represent the Grim Reaper." His fingers brushed against his pocketwatch. "And everyone's time eventually runs out. Are you one of Gabriel's models?" His eyes traveled over her dress. "He certainly knows how to shake things up. I would expect nothing less from your father, Adrien, than to throw such talent onto such a controversial piece."

Marinette flushed. "Actually, Mr. Casimir," she began.

"Marinette is just a friend of mine," Adrien cut in smoothly, anticipating that she was about to confess to designing the costume. "She's not a model, but she's interested in fashion and wants to be a designer when she gets older."

"Is that so?" Mr. Casimir sipped at his drink, but his eyes never wavered from the blond.

"Yes, sir. She won a contest hosted by my father."

"By Gabriel?" The surprise in his voice was evident.

"Yes. He was very impressed with her talents and is talking about taking her on as an intern eventually."

At this, she squeaked aloud, catching the designer's attention once more. This was the first time she heard that _Gabriel Agreste_ wanted to take her on as an intern. Mr. Casimir chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"Well, I certainly can't compete with Gabriel," he admitted. "But if you are interested, perhaps you can shadow one day at my studio."

She gasped. "Oh, really?"

He nodded. "Of course. If Gabriel is impressed, I daresay that's enough of a reference for me. And maybe you could even get an internship with my company should you decide you don't want to follow in Gabriel's footsteps."

Her eyes blew wide and she stared at Adrien, who flashed her a subtle thumbs up. She turned back to Mr. Casimir. "Thank you, sir," she said. "That is quite an honor."

Mr. Casimir drained the rest of his drink and set it on a passing tray. "You're welcome."

"Cyril!"

The three turned to the soprano shriek of delight. A strawberry blonde woman in a light colored dress flitted over to them, her arms outstretched as she waved a long flute of champagne wildly in the air.

Mr. Casimir, to his credit, remained unaffected by the display. He offered a thin smile. "Aimée, what a pleasure to see you tonight, looking radiant as always."

"Oh, Cyril, you're such a charmer." The lady giggled and swatted Cyril's arm. "Of course, the pleasure is always mine when I get to see someone as handsome as you."

Marinette met Adrien's eye. He seemed to share her sentiment. _Let's get out of here!_

"Ah, we'll leave you alone, now. Thank you again, Mr. Casimir," Adrien said.

"Anytime, Adrien. Marinette, please keep my offer in mind."

"Of course, Mr. Casimir. Thank you!"

"Offer?" The reddish blonde turned to the two teenagers as if seeing them for the first time. "Oh Cyril, don't tell me you've moved onto better things than little ol' me."

The dark-haired man flushed at the implication. "Don't be ridiculous, Aimée," he scoffed. "This is Gabriel Agreste's son and his friend Marinette. She's interested in our profession, so I merely offered her the opportunity to job shadow at my studio one day."

Aimée turned to the teenagers, now wearing a wide smile. "Oh? Gabriel's little boy?" She eyed Adrien up and down. "Not so little anymore, I see. You've grown up since I last ran into Gabriel in London."

Marinette gasped as recognition hit. "You're Aimée Béringer!" she gasped, instantly connecting the dots to the leading woman fashion designer in Paris. "I love your work! You've debuted designs that have set trends in ladies fashionwear for years."

"Aren't you a darling one," Ms. Béringer beamed at her. "I can see why Cyril is taken with you. Though if you really want to get ahead in this industry, you should consider applying to my fashion house. See how a lady navigates her way in this world."

"That would be amazing!" Marinette gushed. Cyril's face darkened as he grabbed another champagne off a tray and swallowed a huge gulp. "Though I'm not looking to really intern anywhere right now," she confessed. "I'm still in school."

"It's never too early for an internship," Ms. Béringer said airily, waving her glass around. "The sooner you learn that you must use any means to achieve your goal, the better off you'll be. Though I don't think you'll have much of a problem standing up for yourself." She sipped her champagne.

"What do you mean?" Marinette asked, puzzled.

Ms. Béringer indicated the purple Hawkmoth dress. "Well, dear, whichever designer convinced you to make a splash in that thing either had your best interests in mind or is out to destroy you." She took another sip of her drink before continuing. "And since you're not a model with any of the major brands, you must have felt more than a bit of apprehension wearing that here, am I right?"

Marinette nodded, rather impressed at how accurately the other designer pegged her thoughts.

"So, you must have had words about what you wanted to wear if you're reflecting another designer's creation. Something that bold can either make or break you. Fortunately, it's an exquisite piece. You've certainly captured quite a lot of people's attentions tonight. Send my compliments to the designer." She looked past Marinette. "Though I do see Gabriel over there, so I may head over to tell him myself."

"Ah, my father didn't design Marinette's dress, Ms. Béringer," Adrien interjected.

She froze. Her eyes sharpened and she studied Marinette again with a cunning intelligence that reminded her of the cleverness of Gabriel Agreste. "Is that so?" And for a brief moment, her booze-induced giddiness melted away under a piercing examination, leaving Marinette with the very distinct impression Aimée Béringer knew how to work a crowd better than any man here. She swallowed, uncertain how to proceed in front of this designer, when Mr. Béringer smiled and waved her hand again, stumbling slightly against Mr. Casimir. The older man hastened to steady her. "Well, then, whoever designed that certainly has made waves tonight. Excuse me, Cyril, my glass appears to be empty."

She floated away, leaving Marinette's own head spinning at what just happened.

"Sorry about that, Marinette," Adrien whispered to her. "Sometimes people get a bit too drunk at these events."

Marinette finally tore her eyes away from Aimée Béringer and turned to Adrien. "I don't think she's drunk, Adrien," she whispered. "Call me crazy, but when you told her your father didn't design my dress, for just a split second, her facade dropped."

"What are you saying?" Adrien asked, confused.

She turned back to watch Ms. Béringer wander over to another crowd of people, integrating herself seamlessly into the conversation like she did to them. "I think it's all a big act. I have to admit, she's good. I'll give her that. I wonder how many people have been fooled by her."

He looked again at Ms. Béringer. "Maybe you're right," he said. "I always just thought she didn't know how to act professional, but it very well may all be faked."

"How many people have dropped their guards around her?"

Adrien chuckled. "Probably too many."

They both looked to Mr. Casimir, who didn't seem bothered by their hushed whispering. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Mr. Béringer since she left, either.

"Well, thank you again for everything, Mr. Casimir," Adrien said louder. "We'll leave you be."

The designer finally snapped out of his trance at Adrien's raised voice. "Certainly, Adrien. Marinette, it was a pleasure. I do hope I hear from you again soon regarding my offer."

With another thin smile at them, he left, heading away from Ms. Béringer in a deliberate manner.

After meeting so many designers, Marinette was starting to feel overwhelmed, so she told Adrien as much. He slowed down and looked around the room.

"I don't see Alya or Nino anywhere," he muttered. "I hope they're not in some dark secluded room hiding when they should be showing off Father's designs."

Marinette giggled. "They're responsible enough. Besides, Alya would kill for a chance to interview half of these people. She's probably trapped someone somewhere and engaged in a debate about Ladybug and Chat Noir to them."

Adrien laughed along with her. "You know her so well."

"She _is_ my best friend."

He guided her over to a small table. "Take a break here," he said. "I'll go get us something to drink. Any preferences?"

She shook her head. "Just nothing alcoholic. I don't think I could pretend as well as Aimée Béringer," she said with a wink.

"You got it."

She quickly lost sight of Adrien in the crowd. Smiling to herself, she leaned against the table, crossing her arms in front of her. All around her, more and more people swirled around – a glorious blend of colors and styles and breathtaking ideas.

"We meet again, Hawkmoth."

She turned to the familiar voice.

"Kylian!" she exclaimed with a smile. Her model friend stood there, wearing a crooked grin that looked identical to Chat Noir's smarmy smile. She couldn't help but relax in the presence of her partner. Next to him stood another boy with light brown hair. Her grin turned sly. She lounged back against the table, propping her arms behind her. "Have you come to surrender your Miraculous to me at last?"

Kylian's smile remained. "I wouldn't give up so easily," he countered. "We haven't even had a proper fight."

She pushed herself off the table and sauntered over to him, stroking one fingernail underneath his chin. "I don't fight," she whispered. "That's what my akumas are for." Abruptly, she pulled away with a giggle. "Sorry, I got carried away."

He reached out and grabbed her hand. "Don't be. I was getting into the moment as well." He looked to his friend. "Marinette, this is Reed. He's a friend of mine."

Realizing they still held hands, Kylian blushed and released her.

"Nice to meet you, Reed!" Marinette exclaimed. She waved her hands in front of her face. "Sorry about that. Kylian and I met earlier tonight and we kind of got caught up in the whole joking back and forth." She motioned to her dress. "Because of our costumes."

Reed smiled, a perfect line of white teeth that told Marinette he must be another model, and punched Kylian lightly in the shoulder. "Don't sweat it, Marinette. Kylian hasn't stopped gushing about your dress since I ran into him."

"Gwendolyn and Kira agreed as well," Kylian mumbled.

"Sure," Reed conceded, "they had nothing but praise about it as well, but _you_ were the one who couldn't stop saying how beautiful Marinette looked in it."

The blond model blushed. "Reed, I did not! I m-mean," he stammered, "not that you _don't_ look beautiful, of course," he began.

Reed cleared his throat and his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, if the real Hawkmoth looks a tenth as pretty as Marinette, I wouldn't stand a chance against her," he exclaimed in a falsetto, clasping his hands together and batting his eyes.

Kylian darkened and shot a murderous glare at his friend. "I regret introducing you," he muttered.

Marinette laughed and rested a hand upon Kylian's arm. "I think that's sweet," she told him. "Something the real Chat Noir would say, too," she added with a wink.

A choking noise interrupted them. She turned to see Adrien standing there, mouth agape, holding two glasses in his hands.

"Adrien!" she squeaked.

"Ah, hello Adrien," Reed said.

Adrien ignored them both for the moment, his eyes flickering between the three of them, settling upon Kylian and eyeing his outfit up and down. He set the glasses down on the table. "Hello, Reed. Kylian," he said at last, greeting each model with a sharp nod.

"Did your father make this amazing dress?" Reed pried, pointing to Marinette. "Kylian won't spill the beans, he just keeps telling me I'll find out after the night is over."

"Sorry, Reed, I can't say. Secrecy and all," Adrien deflected.

"Of course he's not going to say," Kylian said. "He can keep a secret."

"That's right," Adrien countered, and Marinette frowned at the brusqueness in his tone. "I'm a vault of secrets." What was going on? Did he have an argument with his father in the time he had vanished? Marinette started panicking, realizing that she had let Adrien leave alone after she promised Mr. Agreste he would remain with someone at all times. Did he see Adrien walking around alone and berate him? It would be her fault! She promised Mr. Agreste and she let him down.

"Sure you are, Adrien," Kylian said with a warm smile, oblivious to the ire radiating from the other model.

"I was just introducing Marinette to all of the designers," Adrien said. "Did you want to go meet some more?"

"Don't let us stop you," Reed said. "It's good to make contacts tonight."

"Well, you know I'll be there to stop you of course, _Hawkmoth_." Kylian winked at Marinette.

She giggled. "We'll see about that, kitty," she returned with a playful poke at his chest. "Soon enough your Miraculous will be mine."

Kylian's hand rose to capture hers in his. He bent over her knuckles and pressed a kiss to them, his eyes never once leaving her face. "It's only fitting you steal my Miraculous when you've already stolen my heart, my lady."

Her breath caught in her throat. _Did he know...?_

A glass entered her vision and she blinked, breaking the spell Kylian had over her. Adrien handed her a drink. "We should get going, Marinette."

"R-right," she stammered. "It was nice seeing you again, Kylian. And nice meeting you, Reed."

Reed nodded and waved as Kylian shot her one last smoldering smile. And for the first time, a thrill shot down her back at the action. How had she never noticed her partner like this before? How much of Chat Noir's sincerity had she missed out on because she was blinded to Adrien's charm? How many times had she pushed Chat away, only to now discover his suave _sensuality?_ Her heart thumped as she trailed after Adrien, lost in her musings. Was it too late to try to start a relationship with her partner? Was it worth the risk? Did Kylian even know she was Ladybug?

The last one stopped her in her tracks.

Did he know?

He certainly appeared to drop enough subtle clues around her. But anyone who followed the _Ladyblog_ could see how Chat Noir acts around Ladybug. It was easy enough to mimic the mannerisms for an evening to fit into character, right?

But something about the way Kylian held himself hinted at more than just pretend.

Why was this so confusing?

"Marinette?" Adrien had noticed her pause and turned back to her. "Is everything okay?" His brow furrowed in concern.

Belatedly, she recalled how unsettled he was back at the table. "Yeah," she said. "Uh, I could ask you the same. Did you get into trouble with your father?"

His confusion deepened. "Why would I have?"

"You seemed a bit out of sorts back there. I thought maybe he had seen you alone after you promised to stick with us the entire night."

His face cleared in understanding. "No," he said, and the slight abruptness returned to his tone, "I haven't seen Father in a while."

"Then is everything okay?"

He didn't answer for a long moment. "Everything's fine," he said. "You seem quite comfortable around Kylian."

A grin blossomed on her face at that. "Yeah," she replied, reflecting inwardly at the close friendship she had with her partner. "I can't really explain it," she said. "But it's almost like... we've known each other for a very long time. I feel really at ease around him. Like..." her hands waved in the air, struggling to find the words, "like we just click, you know? Like he's... my best friend."

"Oh."

His voice sounded odd and Marinette tilted her head, searching his face for an explanation.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine. Look, there's someone else I can introduce you to." He pointed at a lone designer in the corner and hurried over there. Before he could get there, however, someone else came up and struck a conversation with them. Adrien growled and diverted his path to the bar. Marinette trailed behind him, wondering what was going through his mind and what she could do to fix it. He sighed against the bar and ordered a glass of water.

She fretted beside him, wondering if she should reach out and comfort him or ask more questions. His back was to her. He held his shoulders tense and his body almost coiled like a spring ready to snap upward with the right release.

"Amaretto on the rocks, please," someone said, walking up on the other side of her.

She recognized the black outfit. "Ah, hello again, Mr. Casimir," Marinette said.

The designer looked down at them. His face softened into a warm smile. "Marinette, it's good to see you again. Did you get to meet any more designers?"

"Not since I last talked to you," she confessed.

He chuckled. "Well, we're all out here. Don't be afraid to say hi. We won't bite. I've been talking to a few of my colleagues about you and they're all eager to meet you." She bit back a squeak of surprise as Mr. Casimir turned to grab the drink the bartender slid over to him. "Ah, thank you." He turned back to her. "It was nice seeing you again, Marinette." With that, he departed, swirling the liquid around his glass as he walked away.

Adrien turned back to her as Mr. Casimir left, holding his water in his hand. "Let's try to find Alya and Nino."

"Okay," she said. Some of the irritation seemed to have seeped out of him and she was grateful for whatever it was that had calmed him.

After walking around for several minutes, they eventually spotted Alya and Nino talking with an actor that Marinette recognized from a few movies. From the wild gestures and animated expression on her face, Marinette suspected the blogger was debating with them about her favorite topic. Nino caught their eyes and shrugged in resignation.

Adrien and Marinette glanced to each other and immediately burst out into giggles over their friend's predicament. And just like that, the ice shattered between them again. Adrien's warmth and joy returned to his eyes and he grabbed her hand to lead her through the crowd.

"Marinette!"

A voice familiar to both teenagers stopped them in their tracks. Jagged Stone waved to her from next to a crowd of people. She smiled and waved back, a bit shy.

"Come over here!"

She complied, a bit reluctant as he was surrounded by other people. Adrien followed, a giant smile on his own face.

"Hello Mr. Stone."

"Marinette, that dress is amazing! Really rock-and-roll! I was just telling my friends here about how you're an inspiration to everyone."

"M-me?" She fiddled with her purse. "But I'm not really an inspiration," she began.

"Nonsense! Anyone can see you rock that dress like any fan of mine would!"

"I must agree with Jagged," one woman said. She nodded her approval. "I am rather fond of that dress myself. And you say that it's not a _Gabriel_ piece?" She directed that last question to Jagged.

"It can't be. He's already bid three times on it," Jagged answered and Marinette choked at that. "And we all know it's against the rules to bid on your own design."

"T-three times? Why would Mr. Agreste...?" She nearly hyperventilated and only a reassuring hand from Adrien steadied her.

"He really likes that design," Adrien said with a smile.

"Well he's going to have to fight me for it," Jagged said. "And a few others, from what I've seen on the sheet."

" _What?_ "

"It's bold. It's fresh. It's _frightening_ ," Jagged explained. "Perfect for a rock-and-roll Halloween costume! I can't wait to incorporate it into my tribute to Ladybug song. Maybe I'll write a whole new one, singing about an epic rock-and-roll battle between our favorite heroes and Hawkmoth."

 _Oh my gosh_ , she thought.

"I think you've stunned Marinette, Mr. Stone," Adrien said, keeping one hand wrapped around her shoulder.

His smile faded slightly as he seemed to notice the effect of his words on the girl. "Oh no, I didn't mean to, Marinette."

"I-it's okay, Mr. Stone."

"Let's go get some water," Adrien suggested, and Marinette nodded.

Jagged waved as they departed. "I still haven't finished bidding!" he called out after them, prompting another round of squeaks and sputters from the girl.

Adrien laughed as he maneuvered through the crowd, looking for a quiet spot to give her some space. They spotted Mr. Agreste in a serious discussion with Mr. Gilles. Both of them appeared somber as they talked in low voices, but at least from all appearances they seemed to be keeping civil about things. Adrien tried to catch his attention, but it appeared his father was too absorbed in the conversation with his rival.

Mr. Agreste lifted his drink to his lips when someone stumbled into him from behind, knocking the contents of the glass all over his hand.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, sir," the lady exclaimed. Marinette recognized her as a famous actress from overseas. The lady snatched some tissues from her purse and dabbed at Mr. Agreste's hand, all the while babbling mortified apologies. The designer shook the liquid off and held up his other hand to stay the frantic wiping.

"It's okay," he assured her in a low voice. He set his nearly empty glass on a tray.

"But it got on your sleeve," she said.

"It will come out." Mr. Agreste looked around, spotting the signs indicating the direction of the water closet. "Lucrèce, please excuse me while I go clean up."

"I'll come with you. We can continue our discussion in a quieter area," Mr. Gilles said, still holding onto his own glass.

As the two men left the room, Marinette turned back to Adrien. "I'm surprised your father was so calm about that."

Adrien shrugged. "You would be surprised at what upsets him. He's used to cleaning spills and stains off of fabric during his fashion shows, so things like that just send him into 'been there, done that' mental territory."

"He was being so nice to Mr. Gilles, too, compared to earlier."

Adrien looked thoughtful at that. "Yeah," he mumbled, "that's more surprising to me than anything else, really." He shook himself out of his musings as he looked to Marinette. "Do you feel calmer now?"

She smiled at him. "Yes."

He rested one hand upon her shoulder. "Great. I'm really glad to hear that."

Her cheeks heated up as Adrien stared into her eyes. "Y-yeah! Great! I'm here glad too! I-I mean, I'm glad to hear that, too. Wait, no, that doesn't sound right, either. I mean, I'm glad I got the opportunity to meet all these designers and people like Chat. No! I meant Kylian."

The light in Adrien's eyes dimmed as he dropped his hand from her shoulder and her heart constricted at the loss of his touch.

"I guess you could always find Kylian and flirt with him some more," he suggested, avoiding her eyes.

"What? Why would I do that? I'm your guest."

"Well, it sure looks like you would rather be with him."

"Don't say that!" How could she explain to him that Kylian was her partner in crime? Her punny, flirtatious, sweet kitty? They had a connection built on trust that transcended their transformed identities, even if she just discovered that this evening.

Adrien harrumphed and crossed his arms. "Come on, Marinette, you can't even string together two sentences around me. Clearly you would rather be anywhere but here with me."

"Adrien! Why would you think that?"

He pursed his lips but didn't answer. He continued looking behind him at the spot his father had vanished to. "I need to use the restroom."

"I'll wait here," Marinette said.

"Don't bother."

Marinette crossed her arms, her irritation starting to show. "No way. I promised your father."

He barked out a short laugh. "Oh right, how silly of me to assume you would have wanted to be in my presence _voluntarily_."

"Don't say that! You're my friend!" Tears pooled in her eyes. Why was he acting like this?

"You're closer friends with Kylian in the two hours you've met him than you've ever been with me."

Anger started to replace the hurt. "So now you're saying I can't be friends with Kylian?" she demanded.

He scoffed. "I'm not saying that. Don't put words in my mouth."

"Adrien, what is going on? You're not acting like yourself."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, taking a deep breath. After a while, he opened them, still not looking at her. "I need some air. I'll be back in a bit."

And before she could say anything else, he stalked away.

She watched him vanish as her world crumbled around her. What was going on? How could a perfect night like this have been ruined? What did she do? And she had a sneaking suspicion she _did_ do something, because why else would Adrien have been angry? The only person he was in contact with all evening was her!

She decided to visit the restroom to compose herself as well before facing Adrien again. With a long sigh, she trudged to the back area.

She hadn't taken but a few steps into the hallway when a scream broke out.

Her Ladybug senses activating immediately, she whirled around, seeking the source of the noise. She spotted the actress who was talking to Jagged Stone earlier that evening standing in a doorway, eyes wide and hands on either side of her face. The actress backed away and screamed again.

Marinette ran over to her just as Mayor Bourgeois and Officer Raincomprix, lured by the noise, reached the doorway.

"Ma'am, what happened?"

The lady merely pointed into the room, her face white as a ghost. Marinette peeked inside and gasped.

Lucrèce Gilles lay sprawled on the floor, eyes wide and unseeing and mouth open. Fingers clutched at his throat, frozen in the last moments of his life. His lips twisted into a dark blue grimace while his skin burned bright red like a bad sunburn. An empty tumbler glass rested beside him, the carpet soaked with a dark amber stain.

And kneeling over him, his own face a mask of shock and horror, was Gabriel Agreste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
> Hahaha just kidding. I can't write a murder mystery in such a short amount of words, even brushing off a lot of the introductions as a previous chapter's prompt. There will be three more chapters.
> 
> This is intended to be solvable. I plan to leave out clues and hints and stuff for you guys to figure out over the next two chapters, so by the time Ladybug gets her "aha!" moment, there should be enough information for you guys to also come to the conclusion. I love mysteries but I'm not so certain I'm good at writing them, so please tell me what works and what doesn't work.
> 
> I also realized I'm writing MariChat with the wrong Chat (Kylian)! And that little sleep-deprived tidbit sent me into giggles.


	3. Murder Mystery part 2

_Murder Mystery_

_Part 2_

To his credit, Roger Raincomprix knew exactly what to do.

“Hold it right there!”

Well, _after_ that useless declaration, of course.

He called for backup immediately on his radio and ordered the room to be sealed. He also ordered the hotel to be sealed off and to allow no one to exit or enter without his permission until this was resolved. Mayor Bourgeois escorted the actress lady to a room to calm down, while Officer Raincomprix took Mr. Agreste to a separate room to be questioned. It was obvious from their attitude they suspected he had killed the designer, though the accusation wasn't voiced – yet. Marinette ducked behind an outcrop in the wall and trailed behind Officer Raincomprix and another man as they approached the room where they had locked Mr. Agreste in.

A tap on the shoulder startled her, and she flipped around, snatching the hand and twisting it into a painful lock. She dropped it immediately.

“Adrien! I'm so sorry,” she exclaimed.

“What's going on?” he asked, spotting his father in the distance. “I heard a scream earlier. I couldn't find anyone and there's rumors flying around that someone died.”

Marinette pulled him back behind the alcove with her. “Mr. Gilles is dead,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Shh!” she admonished.

“Where is my father?” Adrien asked, bending down and peeking around the corner with her.

“They're keeping him in that room there. He was discovered with the body.”

“What?!”

“Shh!” She yanked him back as she was afraid his exclamation would attract the attention of the officers. “I think they're going to question him.”

The both peeked around the corner again, noting that Officer Raincomprix merely pointed at the door and motioned to his other subordinates. They scattered, leaving one behind to guard the door.

“I need to talk to him, but it looks like they're going to investigate first,” Adrien remarked. “And I don't think they will let me in to speak with Father.”

Marinette nodded. “We'll have to time it just right.”

“When they go in and question him,” Adrien finished. “That will be our chance to speak with him and find out what happened and what we can do to help.”

Marinette turned back around and leaned against the wall. “What do you suggest we do in the meantime? We can't stay here – we're too exposed and we'll be discovered eventually.”

“We retreat for now.” Adrien grinned at her. “Strategically, of course. Let's get back to the main ballroom and keep an eye out here. If anything looks like it's going to happen, we'll act.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Adrien grabbed her hand (Marinette suppressed a squeak) and together they headed back to the crowded room. In the wake of the tragedy and his preoccupation with his father's predicament, Adrien appeared to have forgotten their previous argument. Though Marinette was glad, she wanted to address their argument eventually – once all of this had resolved itself.

That just gave her all evening to work up the courage to confront her crush directly.

“Adrien!”

They looked around to pinpoint the source of the shout. Marinette spotted Reed waving to them, standing with Kylian and Gwendolyn. Adrien's face momentarily darkened, but Marinette was getting tired of his moodiness. She snatched his hand and stalked over to the group, dragging the surprised blond model behind her.

“Hello again,” she said with a smile. She tightened her grip on Adrien's hand in what she hoped was a threatening manner and not a cuddly romantic squeeze.

He took the hint. “Hi,” he said, though a bit sullen.

“I saw you coming out of the hallway,” Reed said, pointing to the area now guarded by a policeman. “What's going on? Did something happen?”

“We heard a scream,” Kylian said. He turned to Marinette in concern. “Are you okay?”

“We're fine,” Adrien answered for them as she opened her mouth. She turned to him with a glare.

“We heard a rumor that someone died,” Kylian continued, oblivious to Adrien's irritation.

She nodded. “Mr. Gilles.”

Kylian's eyes widened. “Lucrèce? No way!”

“That's not all,” Kira said, approaching the group. All eyes turned to her. She tossed back her silky hair. “They're saying he was murdered.”

“What?” Gwendolyn exclaimed, her hands rising to cover her mouth. Her eyes started to pool with tears.

“Do you know how he was killed?” Reed asked.

Kira nodded, and a faint wave of regret rippled across her face as she glanced at Adrien. “It's looking like poison. And... well, the police already have a suspect.”

Marinette clutched Adrien's hand with a fierce protectiveness. If a model like Kira already knew this much about the murder, what other horrible rumors were most likely flying around the ballroom?

“Don't leave us hanging, Kira,” Reed implored. “Who do they think killed Lucrèce?”

“Gabriel Agreste.” Again, she glanced to Adrien with a mask of sorrow. “I'm so sorry, Adrien.”

“My father didn't kill anyone!” Adrien snapped as three pairs of eyes turned to him.

Marinette stepped forward, almost like she was Ladybug protecting a civilian. “I don't think Mr. Agreste killed Mr. Gilles, either,” she said in a strong, clear voice, projecting her confidence through her words.

“He was found with the body,” Kira pointed out, soft but insistent. Marinette was grateful it was someone like her telling them what to expect rather than a stranger with no regard for Adrien's feelings. A surge of affection for the model shot through her.

“He didn't do it,” Adrien practically snarled. “My father can be a lot of things, and he's not the warmest or nicest person in the world, but he's no murderer.”

Reed walked over and placed a hand on Adrien's shoulder, clapping him gently. “Hey, man, if you say your dad didn't do it, we believe you. I liked Lucrèce well enough but there's plenty of people here who didn't. I can't believe your father is the only one to hold a grudge against him.”

Gwendolyn seemed to snap out of her mask of sadness and an almost accusatory fire entered her eyes as she glared at Reed. “Don't give me that,” she shot back to the model. “You had plenty of reason to hate Lucrèce.”

“What? No I didn't,” Reed insisted, the surprise evident in his voice.

Gwendolyn's eyes flickered over to Kylian. “Both of you did,” she continued, the fire from her eyes igniting the rest of her. She bristled, standing there with her fists clenched at her sides. “You both had a reason to want Lucrèce dead.”

“You don't know what you're talking about, Gwendolyn,” Kylian said.

“Both of your modeling contracts with Lucrèce weren't renewed. You were being let go from his modeling agency.”

Kylian laughed. “That's because Reed and I are working on a new project together.”

“Yeah right,” Gwendolyn fired back, her cheeks flushed with rage. “There's nothing in the files about that.”

Reed fixed her with a serious frown. “And how do you know this?” he questioned. “Our files are confidential. Another model can't access them.”

His words had an instant effect on Gwendolyn. She paled so fast a bit of the red in her cheeks remained. “I-I...”

“You know,” Reed continued, seizing his advantage, “there have been rumors that you were always _closer_ to Lucrèce than most.”

Some of the anger returned. “I don't appreciate what you're insinuating,” she spat out.

“Oh? Just like I don't appreciate you insinuating that Kylian and I could have had a hand in Lucrèce's death. I think being accused of murder is a higher insult than having an office fling.”

“We aren't having a fling,” Gwendolyn said.

Reed waved his hand. “Call it what you want. You're clearly closer to Lucrèce than any of us.”

Kylian raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he decided he was tired of _you_ instead and found someone new.”

Gwendolyn glared at him. “How dare you!”

“Hey, let's not get too aggressive here,” Kira cut in, attempting to thaw the iciness that had settled over the models. “We don't know anything yet, and we've all known each other too long to start blindly accusing everyone of everything under the sun.”

The three models in question turned their glares to Kira, but she marched forward into the middle of the group and leveled a finger at all three of them. “You all are acting like children. I refuse to let you three destroy your friendship over silly rumors.”

“But Kira,” Kylian began.

“No,” she declared, closing her eyes and swiping her hand to the side. “I don't want to hear it. We don't know anything worth anything yet. Just rumors and speculation. We should be mourning our employer and friend, not sniping at each other like a bunch of... a bunch of _stuck-up pissy designers_.” She folded her arms.

Kylian and Reed exchanged rueful glances at each other. Gwendolyn hung her head.

Kylian's lips quirked into a grin, and that set off Reed.

The two began to chuckle. Reed nudged Kylian to be quiet and the two calmed down.

For about three seconds, then Kylian started laughing. Reed soon followed.

Slowly, Gwendolyn's lips twitched. Even Kira began to smile.

The four models dissolved into giggles and quiet laughter, much to the bafflement of Adrien and Marinette. She looked over at Adrien and he shrugged at her.

“You're not supposed to be laughing,” Kylian muttered to Reed, nudging him back with his shoulder.

“You started it,” Reed accused.

Kira smiled. “That's better,” she said.

Kylian turned to Adrien and Marinette to explain. “One shoot when we were all together we were with this photographer who butted heads with the designer – it wasn't Lucrèce, don't worry – and after the designer had left, our photographer got so irritated he just spat out that he was nothing more than a 'stuck-up pissy designer'. He practically shouted it across the studio.” He chuckled. “Since then, we've always said that to each other when referencing our employers at different shoots and events. It's kind of an inside joke, I suppose.”

“I want to be a designer when I get older,” Marinette pouted.

Kylian winked at her. “Just don't be one of the stuck-up pissy ones,” he said.

Gwendolyn looked up with a sniff. Her eyes were red-rimmed. “I'm sorry about my actions,” she apologized. “I shouldn't have said that kind of stuff to any of you. Lucrèce has always been like a father to me. I can't believe he's dead.”

Kira looped her arm around Gwendolyn's. “Come on, girl, let's go get you cleaned up.” With a quiet goodbye, the two models departed.

Sensing Adrien tense once more in the presence of Kylian, Marinette smiled.

“We really should see about our other friends,” she said. “Please excuse us.”

She grabbed Adrien's hand once more and hauled him away.

They needed to find Alya and Nino. Their friends could provide the support Adrien needed right now.

She stood up on her tiptoes, craning her neck around to look for them.

“I don't see them anywhere,” she muttered.

“Looking for someone in particular?” a voice asked.

Marinette whirled around, finding herself face-to-face with Cyril Casimir. His outfit remained picture perfect – the white lily still crisp and vibrant and the burnished silver pocketwatch gleaming in the light.

“Oh, Mr. Casimir, we were just looking for our friends,” she explained.

“Did something happen? There's been a lot of commotion around here.”

“Uhm, I'm not really sure,” Marinette deflected, not really eager to spread rumors further. Especially if Adrien's father was somehow involved.

Mr. Casimir frowned as he glanced around the room. “Everyone is tense.”

“Of course they're tense, Cyril,” the saccharine voice of Aimée Béringer deepened the frown on Mr. Casimir's face. “The rumors are _flying_ thanks to Regina.”

Regina. That was the name of the actress who first discovered Gabriel Agreste with the body of Mr. Gilles. Marinette couldn't recall her name in the frantic moment, but now that the designer mentioned it, it triggered her memory banks.

Mr. Casimir smoothed his expression before turning to face Ms. Béringer as she fluttered over in her multicolored dress. “Ah, and what rumors are those?”

The other designer smiled, the ever-present glass in her hand waving around intended to most likely disarm any tension, but Marinette wasn't fooled anymore. And, she suspected, neither was Mr. Casimir. “Behind the times again, Cyril?” she teased. Mr. Casimir didn't rise to the taunt. Ms. Béringer sighed in resignation and continued. “She's inconsolable, of course. Mayor Bourgeois is trying to calm her – ever the politician, that one. She kept repeating over and over 'he killed him'.”

“My father is no killer!” Adrien snapped, his hands now balled into fists.

The two older designers turned to him now. “Oh? It appears you _do_ know more than you let on,” Ms. Béringer said, her eyes gleaming with interest. “No one said your father did anything wrong, dear. But Regina did discover him kneeling over poor Mr. Gilles' body.”

“That doesn't mean he killed him,” Adrien retorted.

“I'm just stating the facts, Adrien.”

“Lucrèce is dead?” Mr. Casimir asked, finally catching up to the conversation.

Ms. Béringer turned back to him with a nod. “I'm sorry, Adrien, but Gabriel is being held on suspicion of murder.”

“He didn't do it. You'll see. He had nothing to do with it,” Adrien replied, fuming with anger.

“Adrien, dear, I'm just telling you what I heard. It's nothing that's not going to be repeated. Everyone knows your father didn't get along with Lucrèce. And then they were both seen talking together and leaving the main ballroom right before Lucrèce died. You have to admit it looks rather suspicious.”

“I don't care what it looks like,” Adrien replied, his face now hardened and his eyes flashing with steely determination. “You'll see. My father is innocent. There are plenty of people that hold a grudge against Mr. Gilles, just as they hate my father. It goes with being a successful businessman.”

“True,” Ms. Béringer conceded. “There are many people here who might have wanted Lucrèce dead. Take Cyril here, for instance.”

“Excuse me?” Mr. Casimir interjected.

Mr. Béringer waved her hand at his irritation. “Don't act so offended, Cyril. Everyone knows that your company has been suffering the last several years, ever since Gabriel found his stride. And Lucrèce has always outshone you in all the fashion shows.”

Mr. Casimir glowered at his rival. “And you're telling me your company isn't suffering? I've seen your stocks, Aimée. You've been down twelve percent in sales last quarter alone. You have just as much motive as any one of us to see Lucrèce fall.”

Ms. Béringer sniffed. “I'm in the middle of working on something big that neither Lucrèce nor Gabriel care to pursue. I found my niche in the fashion world once before, and I intend to carve another soon enough.”

Mr. Casimir barked out a derisive laugh. “That's what everyone always says, Aimée. You're not fooling me.”

“Take it how you will, Cyril. I'm merely stating that while any of us could have had a motive, none of us were discovered with the body.”

The black-clad man frowned and turned away. “Based on your logic, everyone here had a motive to want Lucrèce dead.”

“It doesn't matter much anyway,” Ms. Béringer said, pointing behind them. “It appears the police have concluded their investigation.”

They all turned to see Officer Raincomprix heading back down into the hallway where Mr. Agreste was being held. A couple of his subordinates followed.

“That's our cue,” Adrien said. “I'm going to talk to them about letting me speak with Father. I need to know if he's okay.”

He marched off. After a quick goodbye to the two designers, Marinette followed after him. She caught up to him right as he got to the edge of the hallway. Just inside, Officer Raincomprix was talking to his two men.

“Do you think they're going to arrest your father now?” Marinette asked. “They don't seem to be in a hurry to release him.”

Adrien gripped the corner of the wall as he peeked around. “I don't know.”

The police continued to move down the hall, and Adrien quietly followed after them. He yanked her into an alcove when Officer Raincomprix once again stopped outside a door, and only Marinette's honed reflexes prevented her from stumbling directly into the model's arms. Officer Raincomprix stuck his head inside, and Marinette heard him speaking to who she assumed was the mayor, based on the officer's respectful tone of voice.

“We're going to question the suspect now,” he said.

An unintelligible reply answered.

“Yes, sir, I'll personally keep you informed.”

The door closed.

Marinette tugged on Adrien's jacket. “What do you think they've discovered? It doesn't sound like they're going to release your father. They must have good reason for keeping him alone.”

Adrien bit his lip and his face hardened as his eyes narrowed. “Let's find out.” He grabbed her hand and slipped out from behind the alcove, trailing behind them low and silent on the balls of his feet. He pulled her against the wall when the group arrived at their destination. Officer Raincomprix unlocked it using a key handed to him by Mayor Bourgeois (who continued to schmooze with the distraught actress who discovered the scene).

“We need to get in there,” Adrien said. “I need to know why they're isolating Father.”

She didn't bother to voice the very obvious answer, knowing that her friend most likely arrived at the same conclusion himself but needed to hear it directly from the source. She had never seen her friend so agitated. But this wasn't something she could resolve with a reassuring hug.

“I have an idea,” Marinette said. She whispered her plan to Adrien, who nodded. Once the door closed, Marinette slipped out and flattened herself against the wall next to the door. She signaled to Adrien and he knocked on the door.

The door opened. “Ah, Adrien, what can I do for you?” Officer Raincomprix asked.

Adrien took a step into the room, now halfway in the doorframe. “I heard a scream earlier. What happened?”

“There's been an incident,” Officer Raincomprix answered.

“Can I speak to my father? Someone told me he was in here.”

“Adrien?” Marinette heard Mr. Agreste call from inside the room.

“Father!” Adrien darted inside towards his father before the police could stop him.

“Wait, Adrien!” Officer Raincomprix hurried after him.

Marinette seized her chance and ducked low, peeking around and spotting Adrien hugging his father. Officer Raincomprix was behind them with another policeman. No one was paying any attention to her. She slipped in and wove her way through the outer room, crawling behind end tables and chairs until she crouched behind the giant overstuffed sofa. She pulled out her phone and opened up her recording app.

“Father, what's going on?”

“I...” Marinette had rarely heard Mr. Agreste at a loss for words. “Something's happened.”

“I heard someone died.”

“I'm sorry, Adrien,” Officer Raincomprix interrupted, “but this is an ongoing investigation. I can't allow you in here.”

“Ongoing investigation? Why would you separate my father?”

“Adrien,” Mr. Agreste began.

“Wait, they don't think that _you_ had anything to do with it, do they?”

“It's standard procedure,” Officer Raincomprix said. “He was discovered with the body.”

“And I'm telling you, I didn't kill him,” Mr. Agreste snapped.

“Father?”

“Adrien, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave.” Officer Raincomprix, for his part, did sound regretful but insistent.

A long sigh, then Adrien spoke, his voice low and dejected, “Okay.”

“Stay close to your friends, Adrien.”

“Yes, Father.”

There was a little bit of shuffling noise, and then the door closed. Mr. Agreste sighed and collapsed heavily onto the sofa. The motion startled Marinette and she jumped away before flattening herself back.

“I have to ask you a few questions,” Officer Raincomprix began, and Marinette tapped the _record_ button on her app.

“Ask away,” Mr. Agreste said. “I'm innocent.”

“Tell us what happened.”

“It's just what I told you earlier. Lucrèce and I were discussing business when he suddenly clutched at his throat and collapsed. I knelt down to try to help him when that woman walked in and discovered us like that.”

“There are rumors that you and Mr. Gilles were antagonistic toward each other.”

There was a silence as everyone waited for a response. Mr. Agreste didn't say anything.

“Do you care to address those rumors?” Officer Raincomprix prompted.

“Rumors are just that – rumors.”

“So you and Mr. Gilles weren't rivals?”

“Everyone is a rival in this business.”

Marinette heard the shuffling of paper as Officer Raincomprix flipped through his notebook. “My men asked around. It seems you two have been more on the side of enemies rather than friendly rivalry. We've talked to several witnesses who can verify you both argued prior to his death.”

“And can those same witnesses verify that we also were conversing amicably prior to his death as well?” Mr. Agreste sneered.

More shuffling. “Yes. Just before you both vanished back here and you were discovered over his dead body. So, what did you two have to talk about so pleasantly after your previous argument?”

“We were working on a joint fashion venture,” Mr. Agreste said.

“Joint fashion venture?”

“Yes. We've decided to combine our ideas into one line co-designed by both of our companies. It was to be announced shortly after tonight. Lucrèce and I took this opportunity to work out some of the finer details and discussions.”

“From what your colleagues have told us, you and he don't seem like the cooperative types.”

More silence from Mr. Agreste.

“Why decide to work with someone you hate?”

“I don't hate Lucrèce. He's a visionary who has elevated the fashion industry with his innovative ideas. He and I may differ on many points, but this was not one of them.”

“That's not what you've told him previously. I believe you once called him 'an aging dinosaur in the midst of a meteor shower'.”

Mr. Agreste scoffed, covering up Marinette's own snort of laughter. “That was in regards to how he decides to market and run his business. _Not_ his ideas.”

“Then the arguments you had earlier weren't real?”

Another long sigh. “There are many things I disagreed with Lucrèce about. Our partnership did not change my criticism of him, nor his of me.”

“But his death certainly is a boon to your business.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Mr. Agreste snapped. “What good would it do my business if I eliminate my partner _before_ we start to earn profits?”

“Maybe he was looking to lock you out. Double-cross you. Maybe you found out about this and killed him before he could cut you out of the profits.”

Mr. Agreste rose to his feet. “And maybe you should get your facts straight before accusing me of murder on pure conjecture. You've no proof of any of these accusations.”

“The facts we have, Mr. Agreste, is your business rival was discovered murdered with you standing over his body.”

“And how do you even know he was murdered?” Mr. Agreste retorted. “He could have had a heart attack.”

There was a short pause, as if Officer Raincomprix debated how much to reveal. “The medical examiner ruled the cause of death as poisoning,” he said at last. “We're sending his glass off for analysis but based upon the initial evidence, it's likely that was the method of delivery.”

“Then I suggest you get out there and find out who actually murdered him instead of wasting your time accusing me.”

There was a long moment of silence and some shuffling of paper before a soft snap told Marinette that Officer Raincomprix had closed his notebook. “Mr. Agreste, you're being held on suspicion of murder. You are to remain here until we conclude our preliminary investigation, after which we will take you to the station and formally charge you. I suggest you take this time to think about your defense.”

“I am innocent,” Mr. Agreste insisted.

Officer Raincomprix didn't reply, and from the shuffling noises she heard, Marinette suspected he was heading toward the door. It creaked open. Marinette stopped her recording and stuck her phone back in her purse. Tikki looked up at her with wide eyes. Marinette pressed a finger to her lips and closed the purse once more.

Another heavy _fwoosh_ sounded as Mr. Agreste collapsed back onto the couch. Marinette took the opportunity to push away from the back of the sofa and crawl back to the door. She had to get to it before....

She heard Adrien again on the other side, ready to put their plan into action. But Officer Raincomprix was ready for him this time.

“Adrien, I cannot let you in.”

“But...”

“No 'but's, Adrien. I'm sorry, but these are the rules. I'll have to escort you back to the guest area.”

Marinette gulped as Officer Raincomprix closed the door behind him. She heard the clicking of the lock, sealing her fate. She risked a glance over her shoulder. Mr. Agreste sat on the sofa, hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees. He had removed his glasses and was rubbing one hand across his closed lids. She gulped. It would just take one slight twist of the head and he would see her once he opened his eyes. She scurried back behind the sofa and pulled out her phone.

 _I'm trapped!_ She sent a quick text to Adrien.

_I'm sorry, they won't let me in the hallway anymore. :(_

She bit her lip. How was she going to get out of this? Her phone vibrated in her hands. _Are you about to be discovered?_

 _No, your father is sitting behind me on the couch. I'm still hidden. I don't know for how much longer, though._ She curled her arms around her legs as she tried to think of a way out of this. The phone danged in her hand.

It vibrated again as another text arrived. But lost in her thoughts, she let the phone touch against the wooden legs of the couch. It buzzed. Horrified, she yanked it away, holding her breath as she hoped it wasn't heard.

“Hmm?”

 _Crap crap crap crap_ , she thought. Mr. Agreste rose off the couch and Marinette heard his heavy footsteps walk around to one side. She hurried to the opposite end and tucked herself around the corner, holding her breath and hoping she made it in time. Her heart pounded in her chest as she curled into a tiny ball.

The footsteps stopped.

An exasperated sigh. “I know you're there. You might as well show yourself.”

Silence. Marinette remained frozen, hoping he was just bluffing.

The footsteps resumed. She swallowed a squeak and rolled around to the front, crawling as fast as she could.

“Marinette?”

She winced as if the word physically struck and hurt her. Slowly, she craned her neck to see Mr. Agreste staring at her. His height allowed him to tower over the sofa and without the arched back to hide her, she stuck out like a sore thumb. She swallowed her pride and rose to her feet, dusting herself off.

“Uhm, hi there,” she said, wagging her fingers in an awkward wave.

He frowned and walked back around the couch. “Sit,” he commanded. She immediately dropped on the edge of a chair in the room, suitably abashed at getting caught. “What are you doing here?” He took his seat back on the couch and folded his arms as he waited for her explanation.

“Uhm, well, we-- I-I mean, _I_ was worried about you,” she said. The last thing she wanted to do was get Adrien into trouble as well.

His eyes narrowed.

“Adrien and I went to the restroom, and I heard a scream. I saw that lady pointing in the room and well... I-I saw...” She trailed off with a gulp, averting her eyes.

He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry you had to see such a sight,” he said, his voice low and gentle with what she assumed was his attempt at sympathy – but it was stilted, as if he wasn't used to having to soften his edges for anyone. “But that doesn't explain what you are doing _here_.” The edge sharpened.

She gulped and fidgeted with her hands. “I was worried.” Abruptly, she dropped her hands and looked up into his eyes. “I want to help. I know you didn't kill Mr. Gilles! Officer Raincomprix is wrong!”

“And you think you can do a better job than the police?”

“If they have come to the conclusion that you're a murderer, then yes, I think I can!”

“And yet here you are, locked inside this room. How did you get inside anyway?”

“Uhm... well... I uh...”

Abruptly, Mr. Agreste groaned and tilted his head back. “Ah, of course. Adrien.”

“W-what? Adrien? What about Adrien? Adrien doesn't have anything to do with this. I'm totally working alone.”

The look he leveled at her shut her up. “My son acted as a diversion while you slipped in.”

“What? That's cra--” The denial faded on her lips as his eyes continued to pierce her. She couldn't lie directly to his face. She hunched over. “It was my idea,” she mumbled. “Please don't be angry at Adrien.”

Mr. Agreste studied her in silence for a few seconds before speaking once more. “Well, now you're stuck here with me. You won't be able to do any dangerous investigations. I've half a mind to keep it that way, for at least I'll know you're safe.”

“I was going to get help,” Marinette explained.

“Really?” The disbelief in his voice reflected his doubt.

She nodded. “Alya.”

He chuckled without mirth. “Your reporter friend is not who I would consider a safe investigator.”

“No, I was going to use her to post something on the _Ladyblog_ asking Ladybug and Chat Noir for help.”

At this, Mr. Agreste's face morphed into something unreadable.

She hurried to explain further. “They've helped you in the past, and I think they would be able to have a clearer head about this. I don't think Officer Raincomprix is going to investigate too hard when he already has a prime suspect.”

“That's provided you get out of here,” Mr. Agreste pointed out. “What do you plan to do if that doesn't happen?”

“I'll just text Alya and explain what happened,” she said, pulling out her phone and ignoring the string of messages from Adrien for the moment. “She'll post on the _Ladyblog_ anyway and they'll come in and help.”

He dropped his arms and rose from the couch. “It would be safer for you to stay in here. At least then I would have the peace of mind you're not throwing yourself at a murderer.” He turned to her. “But if you give me your word you won't do anything dangerous, then I suppose I can see what I can do to help you to get out of here.”

“Get out of here?”

“Unless you want to spend the rest of the evening locked in here with me? I imagine Officer Raincomprix would be extremely put out to discover you slipped past his guards.”

“Uhm, I would rather not,” she said. “I think I would do a better job telling Ladybug and Chat Noir what happened.”

“Of course.” He flattened his brow at her again. “Is that _all_ you're going to do? Tell them what happened?”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Agreste. I swear I won't do anything dangerous!”

He nodded and turned to walk over to the door. He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you just going to sit there?”

She scrambled to her feet. “Do you want me to hide behind the couch again?”

He motioned next to the door. “Right here should be adequate enough.”

She slid beside him and flattened herself against the wall. He looked over to her and opened his mouth. Uncertainty flickered across his face as he appeared to struggle to find words. At last, he gave his head a tiny shake and closed his mouth. His eyes snapped back to the door as he lifted a fist and pounded against it.

It cracked open. “What do you want?”

“I need to use the restroom,” Mr. Agreste stated.

“It's against orders.”

Mr. Agreste straightened his back. “It's against orders to escort me to a private restroom and guard me the whole time? Do you really think I would attempt to make a run for it? I'm innocent. I have nothing to fear.”

The officer said nothing for a moment, and Marinette held her breath. This wasn't going to work. She was going to be stuck inside the improvised interrogation chamber for the rest of the evening. She wouldn't be able to sneak out and investigate. She wouldn't be able to transform and help her partner clear Mr. Agreste's name. She wouldn't be able to help anyone...

Just as her thoughts darkened the further she stood there waiting, the officer relented with a sigh. “Fine, but no funny business.”

Mr. Agreste didn't dignify that with a response as he stepped out of the room without another glance at her. She counted to exactly one minute before peeking out of the room. Spying an empty hallway, she slipped out and made her way back to the crowded main area.

“Marinette!”

Almost immediately, Adrien pounced on her. “What happened?” he questioned. “You stopped answering my messages. I was so worried.” Indeed, his perfectly handsome face contorted into a fearful expression. He planted his hands upon her shoulders.

“Ah, it's okay, Adrien,” she said. “Your father heard my phone.”

His eyes blew open. “He didn't see you, did he?”

“Yeah, actually he did. Uh, he helped me get out of the room without being seen.”

“Wow...”

“I told him that it was all my idea so he won't be too angry at you. I hope,” she mumbled under her breath.

He brushed away her concern. “Don't worry about that. What did you find out?”

She glanced around at the crowd of people. Deciding it was too noisy and someone might overhear, she pulled him to a corner and handed the phone to him. He pressed the playback button and both of them crowded into each other, hunched over the speaker to hear as best they could. When they finished, Adrien straightened and stared at her. His face was drawn and pale. “They really think Father murdered Mr. Gilles?”

Marinette's heart went out to him. “I don't think he did! I told him that, too.”

“What can we do though? They wouldn't even let me back in to see Father. How are we going to help him?”

“I thought maybe we could put out a message on the _Ladyblog_. I know this is a bit out of their expertise, but maybe Ladybug and Chat Noir could get around and investigate things that we won't be able to get to.”

Adrien perked up, and the change was instantaneous. He beamed at her. “Marinette, that's a brilliant idea!” He looked around. “But I don't see Alya anywhere,” he lamented.

“We should split up and look for them,” Marinette said.

“But my father said to stay together.”

Marinette pulled out her phone and sent out a quick text message. “Hopefully she gets this.” Alya must have, because within seconds, Marinette got a reply. “She's heading over to us.”

“Great!”

A few moments later, and their two friends were quickly appraised of the situation. Alya, naturally, posted the alert on the _Ladyblog_ immediately. “I'm sure they'll arrive,” she said, checking her phone frequently for updates.

Now that Adrien was safe with the others, she could slip away and transform into her alter ego.

“Ah, I think I see Chloé over there,” Adrien said, pointing in the crowd. “She'll kill me if I don't stop and say hello to her.”

“Ugh, the less I see of her the happier my night will be,” Alya said. Marinette silently agreed.

Adrien chuckled. “Well, wish me luck!”

“You'll need it,” Alya said as Adrien headed away from them.

“Uhm, I think I might stay close to Adrien,” Marinette said. “That way if he looks like he needs to escape, I can give him an excuse.”

“Uh huh, sure thing, girl,” Alya said with a knowing shake of her head.

Letting out a sheepish giggle at being caught, Marinette headed off in the same direction as Adrien before darting into a hallway and stepping into the first abandoned room she came across.

“Tikki, we need to wrap this up before the night is over, or the real killer is going to escape!”

Her kwami nodded in agreement. “You know what to do, Marinette.”

“Tikki, Spots On!”

 


	4. Murder Mystery part 3

_Murder Mystery_

_Part 3_

Ladybug slipped back into the crowd of people, most of whom didn't even really give her a second glance. A superhero among all these other costumes? Most of the attendees probably assumed she was another important person dressed up on behalf of a designer. She wove her way through them with swift and sure moves, making certain to avoid Alya for the time being unless she wanted to lose more time as the blogger gushed over her.

She didn't want the inevitable attention, either.

Unfortunately, not everyone in the room ignored her presence.

"Ladybug! Are you here to investigate the murder?" someone shouted out to her, and before she knew what was happening, a dozen guests surrounded her, peppering her with questions.

"Hold up," she said, raising her hands high. "I'm just here to offer my assistance to the police."

"But Gabriel Agreste has already been arrested," someone else said.

"That's not true," another countered. "He's just being held for questioning."

"That's as good as a guilty verdict!" another joined in.

Ladybug groaned as the arguing continued back and forth. "Enough!" she finally yelled, raising her voice above the din. The crowd quieted. "There is no proof of anything yet, which is why I am here. It's not nice to throw around accusations without proof, and I'm sure none of you would like being the center of attention for a crime you didn't commit. I'm determined to get to the bottom of this, one way or another. That's my promise to you. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get on with the investigation."

She maneuvered herself out of the crowd as the low murmuring started back up as she departed, not noticing one particular set of eyes narrowing at her announcement. Ladybug spotted Roger Raincomprix at the edge of the blocked hallway. With a frown, she approached him as he finished issuing orders to his men.

"Ladybug!" he said as she neared. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard there was an incident that might need my help," she said.

"Thank you, but there's no akuma here. We have everything under control."

"Oh?" the uncharacteristically sharp voice of her partner came from behind her. "I heard a prominent fashion designer was murdered. And you're holding another prominent fashion designer as a suspect."

Ladybug turned with a smile, but Chat Noir ignored her, zeroing in on Officer Raincomprix with a stern expression on his face. The warmth of his eyes had iced to a cool determination and Ladybug was taken aback at the change in her jovial partner.

"Exactly, as I said we have everything under control," Officer Raincomprix reiterated.

"Ah, well then you won't mind if we look around, do you?" Chat asked. "After all, it would look foolish for you and your department if you declined the assistance of a couple of superheroes only to discover you missed something in your investigation, right?"

Officer Raincomprix flushed with anger. Ladybug poked her partner. "Ah, what Chat means," she added, hoping to diffuse the obvious tension between the two people, "is that we're always happy to help out. You could consider us tools at your disposal. After all, your suspect might be more willing to talk to us than the police. Our reputation tends to perhaps get others to feel more at ease."

She held her breath as Officer Raincomprix pondered her words. "You might be right," he said at last. "I won't let it be said that the Parisian police force refused the assistance of the city's superheroes. You can investigate, but you are to report to me with any of your findings, understood?"

"Understood! Thank you, Officer!" She grabbed her partner's arm and practically yanked him down the hallway after her. "What was that all about?" she hissed to him after they were safely out of earshot.

Chat flattened his ears. "Sorry, Ladybug," he apologized, "I'm a bit tense right now. I have a lot going on in my civilian life."

She rested one hand upon his arm. "Hey, you know I'm always here for you, right?" she said.

He nodded once, not meeting her eyes. "Of course. Let's get to investigating." He shrugged out of her hold and set off down the hallway, his shoulders squared in determination and his tail lashing in erratic jerks behind him.

With a tiny sigh, she set off after him. It was clear he was aiming for Gabriel Agreste's room, but Ladybug grabbed his elbow and held him back as they passed another room, guarded by an officer. "Whoa, hold on a second," she said, slowing.

"What is it?" he asked.

"This is the room the body was discovered in. Let's see if we can get any clues here first before talking to Mr. Agreste." The officer stepped aside and opened the door for them. They entered and Chat closed the door behind him.

"How did you know Gabriel Agreste was the suspect?" he asked her.

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "That's what everyone's saying."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah, out in the ballroom."

He nodded. "I thought you might be in attendance here," he said.

"W-what?"

"Don't worry, I won't try to figure out your identity further. You got here just before I did, and I know I didn't have to travel far to arrive, if you catch my meaning."

Confirmation that Kylian was her partner seemed more and more certain. It explained his agitation, too. "I understand," she said with a smile before turning back to the room and focusing on the task at hand.

The room was a cozy little offshoot – one of many the hotel offered for guests to sit around and chat in a small, intimate setting. An unlit fireplace was along the back wall and several overstuffed chairs and a sofa were placed in strategic places around the room. Overall, the room mirrored the one they placed Mr. Agreste into, and she suspected the same theme was replicated in the adjoining rooms.

In front of one of the chairs a tape outline displayed the location of the deceased. Ladybug noticed the amber stain still on the carpet. She sighed.

"We need to see the pictures of the body," she told Chat.

He nodded, though the edges of his cheeks looked a bit pale. "Of course."

She poked her head out through the door and asked if there were pictures of the crime scene available for her to look at. The guard said he would check with Officer Raincomprix and radioed him.

"He's going to bring a tablet for you to use," the guard answered.

"Thank you," Ladybug said with a smile. She closed the door behind her.

Without any photographs to examine yet, her eyes zeroed in on the stain on the carpet. She knelt down on her hands and knees.

"Don't touch that, Ladybug," Chat admonished, scandalized. "It could be poisoned."

She fixed her partner with a pointed stare. "Says the one who insists on tasting every foreign substance that we come across."

"Those are akuma induced," he retorted in defense. "I don't think your healing wave cleanses non-Miraculous damage."

"Want to test out that theory?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

"No!"

She laughed as he lunged forward in horror, his hand outstretched to pull her away. He halted mid-stride. "I'm just teasing, Chat. I'm not stupid."

He frowned and folded his arms. "I never said you were," he muttered.

She lowered her head to the ground and sniffed at the stain. The sharp sting of alcohol pervaded her senses, but also a distinctive scent of almonds.

"What are you doing?" Chat asked.

She pushed herself up from the ground. "I think I know what caused Mr. Gilles' death," she said. "I'll need to see the pictures to be certain though."

"What is it?"

In response, she pointed to the stain. "What does that smell like to you?" she asked.

Without questioning her odd request, Chat knelt and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "Almonds," he said, opening his eyes once more.

"I knew it," she mumbled.

Chat dusted himself off and rose to stand beside her. "What are you thinking?"

She opened her mouth to answer when the door opened back up and the guard entered, carrying a tablet. He handed it to Ladybug. She looked down and saw the pictures from the crime scene. Chat sidled up and peered over her shoulder. She flicked through the digital photos one by one without really examining them until she stopped at one in particular.

"Hmm, I thought so."

The photo showed Lucrèce Gilles, much in the same pose as Ladybug remembered from her brief glimpse at the man's body. The details that stuck out at her once again – badly sunburned skin and blue-tinged lips. She handed the tablet to Chat and pulled out her yo-yo, tapping on the screen for a few seconds before nodding.

"Cyanide," she stated at last. "I deduced as much, but I wasn't certain."

Chat handed the tablet back to her. "Isn't that a bit dramatic?" he asked.

"The symptoms fit," she insisted. "Though I doubt the medical examiner will be on hand to verify it, at least that gives us a starting point."

"How so?"

She began to reexamine the room, kneeling down and peering under the sofas and chairs and checking the tiny crevices under the end tables. "It doesn't take much cyanide to kill someone," she explained. "And the poison had to be carried on someone until being administered."

Chat continued to watch as she darted around the room, stabbing at the fireplace with a long poker, pulling aside the thick curtains, and jumping up to shake tiny vases on the mantle. "So?" he said at last, impatience coloring his voice.

"So if they searched Mr. Agreste, they would have found what he was carrying. A glass vial or pill box or _something_ to carry that stuff in. It wouldn't take much, but it's not like he could palm a capsule or two for the entire night."

"Why not just put it in his pocket?"

"Too risky." Her answer was muffled due to the fact her head was buried deep in the umbrella stand. "It could have melted all over his pocket and then he would have been out of luck."

"So you _do_ think Gabriel Agreste killed Lucrèce Gilles?"

She finally stopped her search and fixed him with a serious stare. "No. I'm ruling out the possibility. Cyanide acts quickly once ingested, so administration would have had to been recent. If Mr. Agreste slipped the poison into Mr. Gilles' drink in this room, he would have left some evidence behind."

"Okay?"

"I can't find anything."

"So either Mr. Agreste poisoned Mr. Gilles outside of this room," Chat began.

"Or Mr. Agreste didn't poison him at all," Ladybug finished. She flicked his bell with a smile. "Now you're _cat_ ching on," she said with a wink. He didn't even grin at her flirts.

"This doesn't help us. The police could just say that my- er, Mr. Agreste poisoned him outside of the room and discarded the evidence before entering."

Ladybug shrugged. "Yeah, but that doesn't make much sense. It's a bit too complicated. Why risk getting caught by dozens of people performing a sleight of hand when you're just going to get him alone and it's much easier?"

Chat turned away. "We're wasting time here. We need to speak with Gabriel Agreste." He pulled open the door and strode out without another backward glance at her. She handed the tablet to the guard and jogged to keep pace with her partner.

"Calm down, Chat," she admonished. "What's gotten into you?"

He didn't answer her, merely continued onward to the door holding the suspected designer.

"We need to talk to Gabriel Agreste," he informed the officer outside. "We have authorization from Mayor Bourgeois to help with the investigation."

The officer nodded and stepped aside to unlock the door. "Yes, I've been informed." He pushed it open and the two heroes entered. The guard closed the door behind them.

Gabriel Agreste stood to meet them, his expression almost unreadable behind his stony mask, but Ladybug could see the fire ignite in his stormy gray-blue eyes. "Ladybug, Chat Noir," he greeted with a polite nod. "Thank you for coming. I imagine the police have informed you of the accusations against me?"

He stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back. Ladybug wondered if that was his way of holding in his emotions and presenting a formal face to the rest of the world. He certainly looked professional and calm, though she noticed his ruffled hair and the jaw clenched in agitation. The few cracks shown in the unflappable Gabriel Agreste betrayed his state of being more than anything the designer could say himself.

"Yes," she said, aware that Mr. Agreste was awaiting an answer. "Marinette also explained a few things. Why don't you tell us in your own words what happened?"

Mr. Agreste motioned to some chairs before assuming his seat on the couch. Ladybug hesitated a brief second before sitting on the same chair she sat on as Marinette. She hoped she wasn't playing with fire by adopting the same stance as her alter-ego. A glance over to him showed that he didn't appear to make any connection – his expression was distant and faraway, lost in his own thoughts. Chat took the other chair, sitting somewhat formally in a mimicry of the other two instead of lounging back with ease like he normally did.

"I don't know where exactly to begin," Mr. Agreste stated. "Lucrèce and I were discussing business in the main ballroom when someone bumped into me, spilling my drink over my hand." He waved his left hand to demonstrate and his silver ring glimmered in the soft light. "So I excused myself to the washroom to clean up. Lucrèce decided it was a good opportunity to take our conversation to a more private area. We stepped into one of the rooms. After a couple of minutes of talking, he began to gasp for breath, clutching at his throat. I stood to assist him. He collapsed when I reached him."

"Why didn't you call for help?" Ladybug asked.

"It happened too fast," Mr. Agreste explained with a shake of his head. "One minute we were talking about our upcoming line, the next he was sprawled on the floor. I hurried to see if I could assist him, and that's when that actress entered and spotted us. She screamed, which alerted the presence of the mayor and the police, and before I could blink I was rushed off into this room and held under suspicion of murder."

Ladybug looked over to her partner, who seemed content to sit and watch Mr. Agreste. He didn't appear to want to take the lead anytime soon. She refrained from sighing. "I've heard from a few people that you two were rivals. Why work with your rival, especially in an industry where corporate espionage is so prevalent?"

Mr. Agreste deflated, leaning forward and folding his hands in front of his face. The pensive expression on his face told her he was carefully selecting his words. She frowned. Was he hiding something?

"I can't tell you the details," the designer admitted at last. "But I can say that Lucrèce and I were working on a cooperative endeavor. It's not unusual for two designers to join forces and release a special line to promote both businesses."

"What were you two designing?"

Mr. Agreste shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't reveal that."

"Even to us?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Ladybug shifted topics. "You're normally a loner in the industry," she began, "so what made you decide to team up with someone – and especially one towards which you harbored some animosity?"

"Lucrèce approached me."

This startled both Ladybug and Chat Noir. "What?" her partner blurted out.

Mr. Agreste nodded, unperturbed by their shock. "Don't worry, your reaction is about on par with my own," he admitted, the tinge of a rueful smile forming on his lips. "Followed, naturally, by extreme suspicion. I confronted Lucrèce about it, and he revealed all the details about his idea. He admitted he had sought a previous partner, but ended it when their visions supposedly didn't mesh well."

"And yours did?" Ladybug prompted.

He shrugged. "Apparently so. Lucrèce was my role model in the industry, and as such a lot of my early designs reflected the same kind of energy his had." Mr. Agreste waved his hand. "Oh, I'm not claiming I copied his ideas or style, but Lucrèce and I shared a lot of similarities on a basic level. The sentiment behind each of our pieces reflected a common core – and while we may have traveled down different paths to display that vision, we both seemed to be connected by a thread of harmony."

Ladybug bit her lip as she tried to process the explanation. "I'm not sure I understand," she confessed, embarrassed that she couldn't seem to grasp a fashion concept.

Mr. Agreste didn't seem bothered by it. He thought for a moment. "Take, for instance, a group of painters," he said, attempting to explain using a simpler metaphor. "Two painters may start with a white background, while the other two start with a black one. Even if all of them paint the same scenes, the white-based ones will have a different feel to the completed paintings than the black-based ones."

"A lighter air," Chat interjected.

Mr. Agreste nodded. "Exactly. It's something similar with our clothing ideas."

"So Mr. Gilles thought you and he would work better together?" Ladybug asked.

"I suppose." Mr. Agreste leaned back against the sofa. "When we put aside our differences, we really have created some amazing pieces." A rare, genuine smile appeared on his face then. "Anyone that thought Lucrèce was losing his touch in the fashion world only had to lay eyes upon our new line and they would certainly be forced to reevaluate that opinion."

As Mr. Agreste was talking, the door opened and the guard walked in carrying a white envelope. "It's for you," he said, holding it out to Mr. Agreste.

"Me?" The designer accepted the envelope, staring at the typed _Gabriel Agreste_ on the front before he flipped it over and slid a finger underneath the flap. As he pulled out the single sheet of folded paper and began to read, Ladybug stood and walked over to the guard.

"Officer, is there really any reason to keep Mr. Agreste locked up in here? I don't believe the evidence you have is enough to warrant his arrest."

Chat rose as well the moment she started allying for Mr. Agreste. "Ladybug is right," he said, "There's nothing to indicate that he's guilty of any crime."

Ladybug turned back to Mr. Agreste, hoping the man would speak up as well. The fashion mogul had gone ghostly white, still holding the letter in his hands as he read it. "Mr. Agreste?" she asked.

He snapped his gaze away from the letter and up to her face. For an instant, a chill descended down her back as she nearly recoiled from the visceral fear in his eyes. He blinked, once again smoothing his face to neutrality. The unnatural paleness remained, as did her unease.

"Mr. Agreste?" Even Chat picked up on the oddity.

He carefully folded the letter and stuck it inside his jacket pocket as he rose from the couch. "That won't be necessary. I confess to the murder."

There was a few seconds of stunned silence before anyone reacted.

"What?" Both Ladybug and Chat Noir exclaimed at once.

"Mr. Agreste, you can't be serious," Ladybug said.

He turned away from them. "You've heard my statement. I confess to the murder of Lucrèce Gilles. You better go get your supervisor." The last was aimed at the guard. The words startled him into action and he hurriedly rushed out of the room.

"What are you doing?" Chat hissed the moment the guard left, practically snarling at the man. "You're not a murderer!"

Mr. Agreste continued to face away from them, his hands clasped behind his back. He remained silent.

"Mr. Agreste, what's going on?" Ladybug tried, lowering her voice to a gentler tone to counter Chat's harshness. "We are here to help you. You can tell us."

He didn't even acknowledge Ladybug's remarks. She walked over to him and placed one hand on his elbow. He tensed, but didn't turn to face her.

"Please," she said, soft and insistent, "let us help you."

He glanced behind him, his eyes landing upon her earrings where his gaze held, transfixed, for a long moment before he tore his eyes away and turned back. He shrugged off her hand and it fell limp at her side. "There's nothing you can help with," he said, and the coldness in his voice chilled her as much as his prior fear had.

Fear...

She frowned, seizing upon that singular thought. He had been insistent upon his innocence up until now. And the only thing that changed was his receipt of a letter. Her eyes narrowed. She had to get that letter. Whatever was inside was the reason Gabriel Agreste decided to confess to murder.

She opened her mouth to ask him about that letter when the door opened once more and Roger Raincomprix entered, followed by a couple of other police officers and the mayor.

Officer Raincomprix cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. "I'm told that the suspect confessed?"

Mr. Agreste turned around. His upper lip curled slightly. His hands clenched and unclenched behind his back. His jaw fluttered. Every fiber of his body screamed that he didn't want to do this, yet he nodded once. "I have. I killed Lucrèce Gilles. You have your confession."

"Why are you lying?" Chat Noir exploded. Mr. Agreste ignored him. Chat stalked over to the designer. "I don't know who you're trying to protect, but taking the fall for them won't change anything!"

Mr. Agreste flinched at Chat's words, though he didn't turn to the black-clad hero. He continued staring straight at the officers.

"Well, I think this about wraps things up," Officer Raincomprix said. "I guess we can inform everyone."

"Wait!" Chat exclaimed, stepping in front with his hands held out.

Ladybug's mind raced for something to say to halt the officers who had stepped forward to arrest Mr. Agreste.

"Thank you for your assistance, Ladybug and Chat Noir," Mayor Bourgeois said, "but as you can clearly see we have our murderer."

"But you can't let everyone leave now," Ladybug said, frantic and desperate. Her eyes darted around the room, as if seeking a Lucky Charm solution without her secret weapon.

"And why not?" Mayor Bourgeois replied. "I think we've inconvenienced all of these rich- er, I-I mean, _nice_ people long enough."

"But what if you let everyone leave and some important evidence gets erased," she blurted out. "And then Mr. Agreste changes his mind at the station and claims innocence. Wouldn't it be better if we could collect some uh... hard evidence to convict him? Just to make sure all of your bases are covered?"

"It would look pretty bad if your suspect were released on a technicality," Chat added. "With this inevitably being such a high-profile case and all. You know how these rich people can be once their lawyers start to get involved."

Their words had a visible effect on the mayor. "V-very well," he stuttered. "I suppose a few more hours won't hurt anything, will it?"

Officer Raincomprix shrugged. "If that's what you want, Mayor."

"Yes, yes, very well," Mayor Bourgeois conceded, fluttering his hand in their direction. "You both have until the end of the charity auction and then we're going to formally charge Mr. Agreste with murder."

"But I've confessed!" Mr. Agreste insisted.

"Don't be so eager to get to jail, Mr. Agreste," Officer Raincomprix said. "You'll be there soon enough."

Ladybug turned to the designer. "We'll continue to investiga—augh!"

She stepped forward to reassure him and tripped over the edge of the rug, stumbling and smashing into Mr. Agreste. He staggered back to catch both her and his balance.

"I'm so sorry!" she wailed, pushing herself up from him and fluttering her hands over his jacket. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Did I ruin your outfit?"

Unknown to him, one hand slipped inside the jacket and extracted the white envelope. She deftly tucked it behind her back, hiding it from the other officers in the room. She sensed Chat moving behind her. She heard a soft zipping noise, and then the envelope was plucked from her hands. She went back to fretting over Mr. Agreste.

"I am fine," he answered, managing to steady himself after her tumble and holding up one hand to stop her panicked brushing of her hands over his clothes.

"That was quite a spill, Ladybug," Chat said. "Are _you_ okay?"

She turned to him. "Yes! Thank you! We better be going, since we're on a time limit."

"Of course."

The heroes hurried from the room as fast as was possible to not draw extra attention, leaving the officers and mayor behind. Chat glanced around, then ducked into a side hallway. Ladybug followed. Chat tested the doors as he came across them and the moment he discovered an unlocked one, he pushed it open. Ladybug ducked in after him and flicked on the lights, flooding the room with brightness.

Her partner unzipped a pocket on his suit and pulled out the envelope. "Let's see what's gotten Gabriel Agreste so agitated, shall we?"

"Thanks for picking up on what I was doing," she said, grateful for her partner's like-mindedness.

"Of course," he answered. He stared at the envelope for a long minute before holding it out to her. "Go ahead. You were the one who got it. You should get the honors of reading it."

She sighed and walked over to him with a smile. "Silly kitty," she chided in a fond voice. "We're both going to read it together." She pushed the envelope back to Chat.

He pulled out the letter without anymore prompting and as Ladybug stood next to his shoulder, they both read the letter in silence.

_Gabriel Agreste,_

_Confess to the murder of Lucrèce Gilles._

_If you don't, your son shall meet the same fate. I got to Lucrèce, and I can get to Adrien just as easily. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to him and his friend in the purple dress because of your stubborn arrogance._

Chat's hands trembled as he held the letter. They both finished reading at the same time. Ladybug turned to her partner. "Oh no! Adrien is in danger!"

"Adrien is fine," Chat said, his jaw clenched and his eyes shining.

"How do you know?" She grabbed the letter out of his hands and read the words once more.

"I just do. He's fine. We need to find the killer." Chat began to pace around the room as Ladybug examined the letter again.

"This doesn't make any sense," she said after reviewing the printed words. "It's typed, not handwritten. Was this the killer's plan all along?"

"To frame Gabriel Agreste? I'd say that's pretty obvious, Ladybug."

She threw him a confused glance at his sarcasm, but decided to keep quiet about it as she continued to explain. "But that doesn't make sense. Look here," she said, pointing at one line. "It says 'his friend in the purple dress'. I saw that girl tonight."

Chat stopped short. His head snapped up over to her. "Marinette."

"Yes, her. But from what I know of this event, the costumes are kept absolute secret. No one knows who will be wearing what outfit. It's some kind of huge mystery."

"That's true," Chat agreed. "Not even Mr. Agreste knew Marinette's dress design before tonight, and she's his guest. Why does that matter?"

Ladybug stared up at him. "Well, how would the killer have known what she was wearing ahead of time?"

"Are you saying Marinette is the killer?"

"What? No!" She flushed and waved her hands. "I'm just saying it doesn't look like this letter was written ahead of time."

"So?"

She groaned in frustration. "Chat, if this was the killer's plan all along, why not bring the letter pre-printed already?"

"Maybe it wasn't their plan, then."

"Then how did the killer print out this letter?"

It seemed like the puzzle pieces had finally connected for Chat. He frowned and nodded. "You're right. We need to hurry before the killer escapes for good."

"Chat? What's wrong with you? You're extremely agitated tonight."

"Nothing is wrong," he retorted in a clipped tone. "I'm fine." He stalked over to the door and threw it open. "Let's get investigating."

The whirring of a yo-yo zipped by and smashed against the door, slamming it shut in front of him. He turned around in shock, discovering Ladybug pulling her weapon back and holding it ready. "No you don't," she said, her eyes aflame with anger and her lips pressed into a thin line. She stalked over to him and snatched his wrist, dragging him away from the door and flinging him around in front of her in the middle of the room. "You don't get to act like this with me, Mister," she snapped, leveling a finger at her astonished partner as she advanced with deliberate steps, finalizing her statement with a defiant poke to his chest. Not even the mask could hide Kylian's stunned expression as she verbally lashed into him. "I am your _partner_. What is going on? You've been acting all weird ever since we met up! You haven't once made a lame pun or some flippant joke or tried to flirt with me."

Chat blinked several times in rapid succession and opened his mouth.

"I'm not done!" she seethed, and he shut his mouth with an audible click. "This isn't the first time you've been weirdly overprotective of Gabriel Agreste, either! You buzzed around on edge when Simon Says targeted him. You refused to see reason when Hawkmoth akumatized him into the Collector. And that same attitude blinds you to everything else now! What exactly is your relationship with Gabriel Agreste?"

Obviously Kylian was so upset because one of his employers is being accused of murdering his other employer, but she needed to get her partner to focus and calm down. If she put out the risk of their identities getting compromised, then maybe he would be able to reign in his emotions. Instead, Chat sighed and walked over to a chair, slumping down onto the plush cushions and burying his head in his hands.

"I can't do this," he mumbled.

Her heart went out to her partner. She immediately stepped beside him and rubbed his back with one hand. "It's okay," she said in her best soothing voice.

"It's not!" he insisted, and when he stared up at her she gasped at the anguish in his expression. "I can't do this, Ladybug," he repeated. "I can't pretend anymore. I can't lose him."

"Lose him?" She was confused. "You mean Gabriel Agreste?"

He buried his head back into his hands and nodded. "I'm a lot closer to him than most people. He..." Chat trailed off and just sat there, heaving gulps of air while she gently rubbed her fingers through his hair and down his back in a steady, calm motion. He stared back up at Ladybug and stood. "Please, Ladybug," he implored, planting his hands on her shoulders and capturing her eyes with his, freezing her with their intensity. "I can't do this anymore. I need to tell you who I am."

Her jaw dropped open, the denial bubbling up from within on instinct. But before she could voice the same reasons she had given Chat a dozen times previously, she closed her mouth. Something in his expression – his fractured, barely holding it together expression – broke her, too. All of the fight drained from her, like water running off her in a rainstorm. "Okay," she said.

He blinked, obviously not expecting her to agree so easily. Then, with a decisive nod and a muttered "claws in", the black suit melted away.

Adrien Agreste stood in front of her, nearly unrecognizable with the same pained expression replacing the usual sunny smile he always wore. A tiny black kwami settled on his shoulder, staring in sadness at him.

"Adrien?"

She was expecting _Kylian_ to appear in front of her, not her crush! She wasn't even sure what to believe anymore.

He nodded. "I'm sorry my reveal isn't under the cheeriest circumstances," he said. A slight grin quirked at his lips. "Like you confessing your love to me."

She squeaked and blushed bright red at that.

He continued, the all-too-brief flash of cheer dissolving into gloominess once again. "Now do you understand? I can't lose my father. He's plenty of things, I'll be the first to admit that. But he's not a murderer. And now that I know he's doing this to protect me..." He cut off with a sharp inhale.

She stepped forward and cupped his cheek with one hand, giving him a tender smile. "I know," she said. "And I'm determined to clear your father's name."

His hand lifted and curled around her fingers. "Thank you, Ladybug."

"I suppose it's only fair for you to find out who I am," she said.

"No!"

The insistence in his voice surprised her. And a tiny bit of hurt mixed in with that as well. She dropped her hand.

He sighed. "It's not that I don't want you to tell me," he explained, catching sight of her face and guessing what she must be thinking. "I want that more than anything in the world. Always have. I just... I just don't think I can handle two bombshell discoveries right now. I know the odds are minuscule that we know each other personally, but just the fact that I would finally get to see my lady's face without her mask might stop my poor heart." He reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of one finger. "I don't want my greatest dream to be overshadowed by this nightmare."

"Oh." She didn't know what else to say to that. And she was certain her face burned as bright as her suit because of how warm her neck felt. She resisted the urge to pull away at the suit.

"So can I get a rain check on that?" he asked with a tiny smile. "And cash it in after this is all over?"

Her hand rose to his chest, brushing off some invisible lint before she flicked one of the brass buttons on his coat. "You can count on that," she told him. "Suit back up, partner, because this ladybug needs her kitty."

With a smile that lit up the room, Adrien transformed back to his alter-ego with a pump of his fist. She reached for the doorknob but stopped and turned back to him.

Reaching up and pecking him on the cheek, she whispered in his ear, "I'll always be your partner."

"Thank you," he mumbled back, his own cheeks coloring to a dusty rose that made him look all the more irresistible.

And as she left the room, she recalled every single instance of Chat Noir professing his love for her. The warm arms surrounding her didn't register until her partner spoke up, "Ladybug, are you okay?" and she realized she stumbled and almost crashed into the ground.

"Yeah," she said. "I guess the shock just caught up to me as well." She flashed a determined smile at him. "But in a good way, Kitty, I promise. It may take me a while to get used to this, but we can't let your fa- er, Mr. Agreste down. Let's go catch a murderer!"

And with a squeeze of her hand and a return smile, Chat Noir nodded and led the way down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to PerditaAlottachocolate for polishing this chapter to a nice gleaming finish. Check out her works for more good stuff!
> 
> Oh jeez I really can't write short stuff, can I? I'm adding another chapter onto this, and I think that after the next chapter you guys should have all of the clues to figure out the killer. I know I originally promised two chapters total, then five, and now it's six. I'm sorry :(
> 
> Why do I do this to myself?


	5. Murder Mystery part 4

_Murder Mystery_

_Part 4_

“What do we need to do first, Ladybug?” Adrien – no, _Chat_ – asked as they entered the main room.

Ladybug bit her lip as she considered what they already knew. “Well, it's obvious that letter was printed after the killer arrived here tonight.”

“Because of Marinette's dress?” Chat clarified.

She nodded. “Nobody knew until she stepped foot in this hotel tonight what she would be wearing.”

Chat lounged up against the wall, studying each person in the room with a distrustful glare. His glower – nearly identical to his father's – kept even the most ardent fans away from them. Ladybug wondered why she had never connected Adrien to her partner before. She only had to look at him now, standing tall yet standoffish, to see the uncanny resemblance to Gabriel Agreste. Chat frowned. “So someone wrote that letter after they saw Marinette. We should check with the doormen to see if anyone left tonight, even before the murder.” He kicked off from the wall and strode over to the front doors. The crowd parted around him without a word, though there were many camera flashes that Ladybug suspected would appear on blogs and social media posts in the morning. She followed after her partner.

When she caught up to him, he had already flagged down one of the doormen.

“Did anyone leave the building after they entered?” he was asking the thin guard.

“No,” the man answered, putting his finger upon his chin in thought, “the police have sealed off the entire hotel.”

“I don't mean just after the murder,” Chat said. “What about beforehand? Did anyone leave and come back in?”

The man chuckled. “No one would dare leave before the winners are announced.”

Chat glanced at her before turning his attention back to the doorman. “So there's no other way in or out?”

“Nope. Unless you count the rooftop like how you two entered.”

“Ehehe, yeah,” Chat chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “The roof.”

“Thank you for your help,” Ladybug said, grabbing her partner's arm and hauling him away before the guard could ask more questions.

“This means we were right initially. The killer is someone here,” Chat said once they were out of earshot.

“And they would have had to print out that letter here as well,” Ladybug added. “Let's go talk to Mayor Bourgeois and see where someone can access a printer.” She stared around the room as if her ability could highlight the murderer in red and black spots.

He shrugged. “Would he really know where someone can print something out around here? Mayor Bourgeois works out of his office upstairs.”

“What are you suggesting?”

Chat pointed to the concierge desk. “There's a back room over there behind the desk. When we were doing our work experience field trip in this hotel, Chloé took me into it to show me around.”

Ladybug instinctively ground her teeth. Of _course_ Chloé would want to sink her claws into Adrien in a secluded office. “So you think that might be our best option?” She forced herself to maintain a neutral tone.

He nodded, oblivious to her ire. “Yeah. Let's check that out first before going back to Mayor Bourgeois.”

The less she needed to interact with the mayor, the better. “Lead the way, partner,” she said with a grin, nudging him with her shoulder.

He smiled and pushed away from the wall, heading for the empty desk. Stepping around the counter, he led the way to the back room. The door was unlocked, but Ladybug couldn't tell if it was because the staff forgot to lock it or someone might have come in after. Chat motioned ahead to her and she stepped in and clicked the lights on while he pulled the door closed.

“There it is,” she said, pointing to a sleek printer in the corner of the room. She hurried over and placed a hand on the side of it, feeling the heat seep through her gloves to her skin. “It's still warm,” she declared.

“Which means it was used recently,” Chat concluded. He sat down on the chair and with a few keyboard taps, pulled up the computer screen. He fiddled around on it for a few moments.

“What are you doing?” Ladybug asked.

“Chloé used her access codes when we were in here before,” he answered, still tapping on the keyboard. “She said she wanted to get access to the security cameras so we could sneak off and have some fun and no one would know.”

Ladybug's hands clenched into fists and she nearly growled.

Chat continued, “But i wasn't too keen on experiencing her type of 'fun'. It probably would have been a makeover or manicure or something. Plus, I really _was_ interested in learning something about the business. Oddly, the one thing that's always intrigued me about Father's company was well, the actual _business_ side of it. So naturally I jumped at the chance to see how another company runs.”

Ladybug almost choked. Did he really not know what Chloé's intentions were? Was this boy really so blissfully ignorant of the blonde's advances toward him?

He spun around with a smile. “I guess I just remembered the passwords she typed into her accounts.” Ladybug looked on the screen and sure enough, the security cameras were pulled up.

“That's amazing!” she raved. “I thought I would have to bring up the feeds on my yo-yo or something, but you've made this a million times easier. Nice work, Chat!”

He beamed at the praise and spun back around to face the screen. She could see his blush reflected on the screen in front of her as he clicked through the different screens. “It might take me a couple of minutes to figure out how this works, since Chloé didn't get around to showing me this part. One of the desk managers came in soon enough and she had to explain that we were working on a school project. By the time she got finished, the security staff came in and we actually had to return back to the front desk where we were supposed to be the whole time. Chloé was a bit irate that she never got to show me how this all worked, since she seemed really eager to do so.”

She had to hide a snort of laughter behind her hand. Chat didn't notice her silent tittering as he bit his lip and navigated the screen. It took a few tries and a couple of restarts, but at last he managed to pull up the video showing the hallway leading to the room. He typed in a time to search, bringing it up to the start of the evening. He clicked the 25x speed button and they watched as the time zipped past on the monitor of the camera recording an empty hall.

“There!” Ladybug bent beside him and pointed at the monitor. Chat leaned forward and clicked the mouse, then rewound the footage slightly and resumed it at normal speed.

A figure dressed in dark clothing stepped into view. They had draped a dark tablecloth over their shoulders like a cape to obscure a good portion of their outfit, but Ladybug spotted dark pants and shoes poking out from beneath their disguise. Another smaller tablecloth covered their head and they kept their face pointed at the ground.

Chat groaned in frustration. “This doesn't help at all,” he moaned. “There aren't any cameras pointing into the hallway from outside.” He clicked through the different camera views. “They're only directly on the front desk. Anyone could slip past with the cloth and then disguise themselves before appearing on camera, and then remove it before going back out in the crowd.”

“A blind spot,” Ladybug mused, putting a finger on her lips. “Although, the figure does look masculine, wouldn't you agree?”

Her partner peered at the image. “Or someone could have swiped some of the caterers' clothes. Or unlocked one of the hotel closets and grabbed a uniform. Or--”

“Okay,” she said, lifting her hands in surrender. “I get it.”

Chat clicked the mouse and the video resumed. The figure entered the room. Several minutes passed on camera before the door opened and they stepped back out again. The figure turned, head still bowed low, and Ladybug pointed.

“There's the letter!” she exclaimed, indicating the white envelope in the figure's hand. They hurried back down the hall, but before they vanished entirely, a brief flash peeked out from beneath the makeshift cape's covering.

“What was that?” Ladybug asked as Chat rewound the footage. “A light?”

“Or a reflection of light,” Chat added as they watched that part again.

She frowned as the figure continued onward, disappearing from camera view. Chat attempted to click through other camera angles, but none showed any hints as to who may have come and gone.

“This doesn't make any sense,” she said. “Why not print the letter out ahead of time? Why wait until the party to sneak around? There's an extremely high risk of getting caught.”

The blond shrugged. “Maybe the killer wanted to add a little more oomph to it by referencing events at the party?”

“I think we might need to ask your father some more questions,” she said. “Confront him over this threat and maybe get some real answers.”

Her partner didn't say anything for a while. He continued to stare straight at the computer monitor, but his hand moved.

“Chat?” she ventured. “If you're uncomfortable talking to your father, I could go in alone.” She rested a hand upon his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

That jerked him out of his reverie, and his head snapped over to hers. “No,” he said, “I'll be okay. I want to hear what he has to say. Besides, I might be able to understand a few more references than you, since he's my father and I'm somewhat familiar with that industry.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Shall we get going, then?”

He nodded and signed off the computer so no one would know they were there. They wove their way back through the crowd, aiming for the back hallway. Chat stopped short, causing Ladybug to crash into his back. “Ow, Chat!” she exclaimed, rubbing her nose. “What was that all about?”

He ignored her, focusing upon something off to the left. She craned her neck to peer around him but couldn't see what he was targeting. Without another word of explanation, he veered off course. His eyes never wavered from his target and every attempt by Ladybug to peek around him was blocked by the crowd. After a few moments, Chat arrived at his destination. And then she got a good look at his fixation. Kylian and Reed were standing together, talking in low voices. Neither model had noticed the arrival of the superhero duo yet. Ladybug gulped. This couldn't be good.

“Hello,” Chat greeted with a smile, “I was told there was someone impersonating me here. I guess that would be you?” His words were cordial though his tone was anything but. Ladybug poked his rib. He shifted out of her range but otherwise ignored her.

Both Kylian and Reed snapped their heads over to Chat. Their eyes widened.

“Chat Noir,” Kylian breathed out in awe, as Reed drove an elbow into his friend's side. “I'm Kylian and this is my friend Reed. Wow, you're really here! I'm such a huge fan.”

“That I am,” Chat answered, still keeping the same cool tone, though his eyes were fixated upon Kylian's gold bowtie, “I'm assisting with the investigation into the murder tonight.”

Instantly, the smiles faded from both Kylian and Reed.

“Ah, no offense, Chat Noir,” Kylian began, “but his name was Lucrèce Gilles and he was a good man.”

“He didn't deserve his fate,” Reed added.

“No one deserves a fate like that,” Ladybug chimed in in agreement.

Chat frowned. “He was a good man? But I heard rumors he released you both from your modeling contracts with his company. Isn't that pretty much getting fired?”

Reed shook his head. “Lucrèce was signing us both onto a new project of his.”

“So you say,” Chat drawled out. “But where is this new contract?”

Kylian seemed to pick up on the implied accusation. “Hey!” he insisted. “Neither one of us killed Lucrèce!”

Reed's eyes widened. “Is that what you're trying to do?” he shot at Chat. “Pin the murder on one of us?”

Ladybug stepped in between the models (well, two models and one superhero... or was it two superheroes and one model...? Ugh! This was all so confusing!)

“Enough!” she barked, the exasperation of her mental debate causing her voice to carry over the arguing boys. She winced at the harshness of her tone. It worked, though, as all three immediately quieted and stared at her. With a sigh, she continued in a softer inflection. “We're not accusing anyone of anything. We're trying to gather facts. Who else is supposed to join you two on this new project?”

Kylian and Reed exchanged rueful glances, suitably abashed at snapping at the heroes.

“We really don't know,” Reed admitted. “The other models don't usually talk about that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah,” Kylian agreed. “The only reason we know is because we're best buds. We told each other, of course.”

“As if I would leave something out like this to my best friend,” Reed scoffed.

“So you don't know anyone else who might have been dropped but not reassigned to Mr. Gilles' new project?” Ladybug asked.

The two boys shook their heads.

“No, sorry,” Reed said. “But--” he cut off abruptly, biting his lip.

“But...?” Ladybug prompted, gentle and encouraging.

He shook his head. “It's nothing.”

“You can trust us,” Ladybug said. “Whatever you tell us is in confidence.”

Reed furrowed his brow, throwing a hesitant glance to his friend for advice. Kylian shrugged. Reed rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said at last, “but I'm not trying to start any rumors, so please don't spread this around.”

“You have my word,” Ladybug promised and beside her Chat echoed her vow.

Reed leaned in. “Gwendolyn, one of the other models, knew about our contracts not being renewed.” He held up his hands in a placating motion. “I'm not saying she's involved, but she might know who else was cut from the modeling department.”

“But she didn't see the new contracts,” Kylian pointed out.

“She could still tell who else had been cut,” Reed said.

“It's a start,” Ladybug agreed, sending a warm smile at the two boys. “Thank you, Reed.” She turned to her partner. “We should be going.”

“Wait!” Kylian blurted out as the heroes turned away. He pulled out his cell phone. “May I get a picture? I'm such a huge fan! I jumped at the chance to dress as you tonight.” He directed that last statement to Chat, who blinked in surprise. Ladybug hid a smile behind her hand at the starstruck look of awe on the faux Chat Noir.

“I... suppose so,” Chat agreed, and both models exchanged an excited high-five, crowding around the leather-clad hero. Chat's glower relaxed into a friendly smile and he beamed as Kylian snapped a selfie.

“Thank you!” Kylian breathed out, his eyes glued to his phone. Reed peered over his shoulder as he pulled up the photo to check it. He met Chat's eyes. “Thank you so much, really! This means so much to me. Wait until I show Marinette!”

Ladybug winced as Chat's friendly demeanor slipped back into a frown. “Marinette?” he questioned, the picture of perfect innocence. She wasn't fooled.

Kylian nodded. “She's a big fan as well. I met her tonight.”

“Oh? I think I've met her before. Is she nearby?”

“Uhm...” Kylian suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable with the current line of question.

“Chat, we should get going,” Ladybug prodded.

“In a second,” he said, brushing aside her concerns. “I'd like to see Marinette tonight.”

“That might not be a good idea,” Kylian began.

“Why not?” The cordial tone sharpened. “Is there something going on between you two?”

Kylian's eyes widened. “No! Nothing like that,” he insisted. “I mean, not that I wouldn't mind. She's pretty and talented and has a razor sharp wit, but she's totally head-over-heels for --”

Reed nudged him and Kylian snapped his mouth shut. Chat blinked. “For whom?”

“It's nothing,” Kylian mumbled.

“It doesn't sound like nothing,” Chat insisted.

Kylian sighed, knowing that Chat wouldn't let this go. “You have to promise not to be angry, okay? She's really nice and it's Halloween.”

“Okay...?” Chat's expression melted from intrigue to confusion.

“She's dressed up as Hawkmoth tonight,” Kylian said, then winced as if waiting for an explosion.

Chat stared at him, his expression blank but still a bit confused. “Uhm...”

“She looks amazing,” Reed cut in. “And I know you might be mad that someone's dressed up as your archenemy and the man who's making your lives miserable, but it _is_ Halloween and she didn't mean any harm by it. So please don't go tracking her down to give her a hard time.”

Kylian nodded and his eyes hardened. “Because superhero or no, I won't let you harass Marinette.”

Suddenly, Chat released a laugh, startling everyone around him. “Hawkmoth, huh?” he chuckled. “That sounds like a wonderful villain to scare people tonight. I'll have to go get a picture with her.”

“Uhm,” Ladybug interrupted. “Maybe at the end of the night. We're on a tight schedule.”

“Where is she, by the way?” Kylian asked, standing on his tiptoes and scanning the room. “I haven't seen her in a while.”

“She's with Adrien,” Ladybug said. Beside her, Chat's eyebrows rose at that and he slid a sideline glance her way. “I saw them together earlier.”

“Ah,” Kylian deflated. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“It does?” Chat asked, confused.

“Well yeah, especially since he's the one she --”

“You know, we really should get going,” Ladybug interrupted. She grabbed Chat's hand. “Thank you for all of your help.” With that, she turned around and hauled her partner away.

He allowed himself to be dragged away without much protest. When they reached a semi-secluded area, he paused and tugged his arm away from hers. She turned to him. “Why did you lie?” he questioned. “You know perfectly well Adrien isn't with Marinette.”

“Marinette will cover for you,” Ladybug answered. “But let's not talk about me. What was all that about back there?”

“What?”

“Don't give me that,” she said. “You went in all hot and bothered and all but accused those two of killing Mr. Gilles.”

“So you think I'm hot?” Chat deflected with a sultry grin.

She felt her cheeks heat up. “Don't try to change the subject!”

“I think this is the very subject we should be discussing.”

“Chat!”

He crossed his arms, still sporting his mischievous smile. “You answer my question, and I'll answer yours.”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “Yes, Chat. I think you're hot. There, are you happy now?” She opened her eyes and discovered Chat gaping at her. “What?”

“I... didn't think you would actually say that,” he confessed.

She harrumphed and crossed her own arms. “Your turn. What's up with you?”

A look of sorrow flashed across his face for a brief moment as he averted his gaze. “Marinette is my friend,” he began. “She's one of my few close friends.”

“So? You're saying she can't be friends with other people?”

“No, it's not that,” he continued in the same defeated tone. “It's.... Marinette's always been skittish around me. I can't explain it. I make her nervous for some reason. And before you say that she's just shy around people, let me just tell you that no, she's not. She's strong and confident and even downright forceful at times, but she's never that way around me.”

Ladybug winced, feeling her blush return. “Chat, I'm sure it's not what you think.”

“Well it can't be what _I_ think,” he scoffed. “Or at least, I don't believe it is anymore.”

“What do you think it is?” she questioned, curious.

He sighed. “My father. She idolizes him. I thought maybe she was nervous around me because of him.” He shook his head. “But that's not it. She's just as confident and assured around him as she is with anyone else. A bit more polite and careful with her words, but she never stammers or stumbles over them when speaking to him.”

“What does that have to do with Kylian and Reed?”

He turned and rested his head against the wall. “When I came in tonight, I knew she might have gotten here before me. I was so blinded by my infatuation for you, Ladybug, that I hadn't really noticed anyone else around me at all. But when I laid eyes upon her tonight in her dress – and it really is as amazing as Kylian and Reed were saying – she just took my breath away with her beauty. The vision she conveyed through her dress: an ethereal butterfly floating through the crowd. _That's_ what the Butterfly Miraculous should look like when used. _She_ transformed an abominable stain upon Paris into a breathtaking masterpiece of magic and elegance.”

Ladybug gulped. Was this really how Adrien felt about her?

He continued. “And for the first time since I've known you, my thoughts were solely upon her. And my heart raced like it does for you, Ladybug, but now it was for my friend.” Chat scuffed the ground with his boot. “A friend who can't act normal around me.” His tone dissolved from reverence into bitterness. “And then I saw her flirting with Kylian, so much at ease and completely natural like they had been made for each other. That's _my_ alter ego. _My_ personality. Used by someone else. I guess I just got really jealous. She's more comfortable around a fake me than she is around the real me.”

Stamping on the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach, Ladybug stepped forward with a warm smile and laid a gentle hand upon Chat's arm. “I know why Marinette is acting the way she is,” she said, and Chat looked up at her in surprise. She giggled. “But I can't tell you now. After we clear your father's name, then I'll explain what's going on with Marinette.”

A tiny smile formed on his lips. “Thanks, Ladybug,” he said. The smile grew. “I guess we should get back to work, then? We're running low on time and we're no closer to clearing my – Mr. Agreste.”

As Ladybug headed back to the hallway, another couple conversing nearby drew her attention. She paused, then veered off on her own diverted path.

“Ladybug?” Chat called after her.

She turned back. “Ah, sorry, there's a couple of people over there that I need to talk to.”

Chat followed her line of sight. “Cyril Casimir and Aimée Béringer?” he questioned.

She nodded. “They're Mr. Gilles' rivals and their businesses are suffering. They're suspects just like anyone else.”

“How did you know that their businesses are suffering?” Chat asked.

Ladybug's step faltered. “Ah, well, uh, I heard some rumors. Are they not true?”

Her partner shrugged. “I spoke with them earlier and neither seemed too concerned about it. That's how the fashion industry works. Some seasons are more profitable than others. That's just how it goes. I'm sure even Father has his lags, though he would never show it.”

The two designers quieted as Ladybug and Chat Noir approached.

“Good evening,” Ms. Béringer greeted with a warm smile. She appeared to be her normal cheerful self though she no longer flounced around in a tipsy state. “Any new leads on your murder investigation?”

“How did you know we were investigating?” Ladybug asked.

Ms. Béringer's smile widened. “Rumors are unstoppable in this industry, dear.”

_She's not kidding,_ Ladybug thought, recalling the many swirling rumors that have circulated the ballroom. She wasn't even sure what was real or fiction anymore. “Ah, well, yes,” she finally answered. “We're looking into the case as a small favor for Mayor Bourgeois.”

“I thought the police already had a suspect in custody,” Mr. Casimir added, taking a sip of his drink. “Gabriel Agreste, correct?”

“Yes, but no charges have been formally levied yet,” she said. “We're continuing to assist until the evening is over.”

“The mayor wants to make sure he has an airtight case,” Chat spoke up. “Did either of you notice anything unusual around the time of the murder?”

“Aside from Gabriel and Lucrèce arguing, you mean?” Mr. Casimir said.

“Arguing?” Ladybug repeated. “I was under the impression they were having a cordial conversation.”

Mr. Casimir chuckled as he took another sip of his drink. “There is no such thing as a cordial conversation between Lucrèce Gilles and Gabriel Agreste. Those two have been at each others' throats for years. They've seized every opportunity to cut down the other.”

“Isn't that just the nature of the business, though?” Chat pressed. “Surely it was all professional and not personal.”

Ms. Béringer laughed aloud. “Oh, you're too innocent, dear,” she said. “It's a cutthroat industry, and frankly I'm not surprised someone actually had their throat cut – metaphorically of course. I just didn't think Gabriel would have been the one to wield the figurative knife.”

Mr. Casimir snorted into his drink, his eyes roving past them to study the rest of the ballroom. “Don't be ridiculous, Aimée,” he chided. “Of everyone in our field, Gabriel Agreste is the one least likely to hold back. You've been on the receiving end of his criticisms before. Is it really so surprising he's escalated to murder?”

Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed for the briefest of moments before she melted back into her sunny persona. “Well, perhaps you have a point,” she deflected in a demure tone, playing the part of the politician so well that Mayor Bourgeois would be drooling to have her on his staff. “I hold Gabriel's character in a slightly higher standing, of course, but that is due to our history.”

Instantly, all eyes flipped to her.

“History?” Chat croaked out. “You have history with my f-- Mr. Agreste?” Beside him, Mr. Casimir paled and gulped down another mouthful of his drink.

Ms. Béringer scoffed and waved a delicate hand to one side. “It's nothing sordid like that,” she assured the group. “I just have my own little ways of feeling out our colleagues. And Gabriel passed my little test, that's all.”

“What was your test?” Ladybug asked, intrigued.

The older woman winked at her. “That's a story for another time, dear.”

The color was starting to come back to both Chat and Mr. Casimir's faces, and Ladybug decided that perhaps now was a good time to go talk to Mr. Agreste again.

“Well, we really should get back to the investigation,” she said. “Thank you for your time and cooperation.”

“You're welcome, dear,” Ms. Béringer said.

“Anything to help out the heroes of Paris,” Mr. Casimir added.

She turned and left the two. Chat trailed behind her. They made their way back down the guarded hallway. Ladybug asked to speak with Gabriel again, and the officer stepped aside to let them in. The designer rose to meet them once more. His face was a blank mask of neutrality, but his eyes betrayed him. They shone with worry as the heroes entered. Ladybug noted his hair was a bit more ruffled than they last left him. The elder Agreste must have spent the last hour or so running his hand through his locks.

“Is Adrien okay?” were the first words out of his mouth once the door closed.

Chat opened his mouth to answer, but Ladybug beat him to it. “He's fine,” she said. “He's with Marinette.” She turned away and walked over to her partner, motioning with her hand. He unzipped his pocket and handed her the envelope. She turned back around, holding it aloft. “We wanted to ask you about this,” she said. She withdrew the letter and unfolded it.

Mr. Agreste's eyes followed her arm movement upward, fixated on the white piece of paper in her hands. “I had wondered where that went,” he murmured. “I didn't take the hero of Paris for a mere pickpocket. What a villainous trait.” There was a hint of something in his voice – amusement?

She flushed. “It's a talent that carried over from my civilian identity,” she explained, leaving out the fact that stealing Adrien's phone wasn't exactly master criminal activity.

Mr. Agreste's neutral expression shifted to one of intrigue. His eyes got this faraway look in them for a brief moment, as if he were filing that tidbit away in his mental archive. Just as fast, his eyes sharpened and snapped back to hers. He motioned to the letter in her hands. “If you've read that, then you should know your assurances are meaningless to me. Marinette is the girl in the purple dress that's referenced in there. She's in just as much danger as my son.”

“They're both fine, I promise you,” Ladybug reiterated. “But I need to ask you a couple more questions about this case.”

“Like why you're insisting on maintaining this ridiculous confession,” Chat added.

Mr. Agreste sat back down and lifted his hands to scrub through his hair again. He stopped with them halfway risen and dropped them back to his side, ever the professional. The brief glimpse into his instinctive reaction to drop formality told Ladybug all she needed to know about his stress levels. The older man heaved a heavy sigh. “It doesn't matter much,” he said at last. “My lawyers will get everything fixed before the week is out.”

“I'm not so certain about that, Mr. Agreste,” Ladybug said. He looked up at her. “The police have some pretty solid evidence against you already. Your confession only adds to the mix.”

“I'll retract it, naturally, once this event is over and Adrien is safe.”

“It will be too late,” she declared. He turned away.

“What about your business?” Chat asked.

“What about it?”

“Even a hint of a word that you're guilty would cause your business to plummet.”

“So? I'll rebuild. I did it once, I'll do it again.”

Ladybug was a bit taken aback. “But Chat is right: you may never recover from this blow.”

“Can't you just trust us to protect Adrien?” Chat asked, frustrated anger leeching into his question.

There was a long moment of silence before Mr. Agreste shook his head. “No. He's my son. I can't place the burden of his safety upon you two. If anything were to happen to him... I...” He trailed off, not able to finish the thought.

“Nothing's going to happen to him,” Chat insisted.

“I can't take that risk,” Mr. Agreste said. “Don't worry about me.” He looked back over to the two heroes. “I'll recover just fine.” He folded his hands in front of him and rested his chin upon them. The light caught the gleam of his ring and Ladybug tilted her head. She stepped over to him and grabbed his hand, startling the designer, who attempted to draw his hand away on instinct. She held firm.

“Has your ring always been this shiny?” she asked, pulling his hand close to her eyes.

Mr. Agreste blinked several times in surprise. “My... ring?” The confusion was clear as he glanced down at it. “I suppose maybe it is a bit shinier tonight,” he conceded after a few seconds.

“It's probably just the light, Ladybug,” Chat chimed in.

Her brow furrowed in thought. Something from her research popped into her mind as she traced through the events of the evening. “When you spilled your drink earlier,” she said, meeting Mr. Agreste's wary eyes, “did you get any on your ring?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately, “my entire hand got drenched.”

She lapsed into pensive silence, her mind racing through a million thoughts simultaneously. Bits and pieces of the night swirled around her; new pathways connecting shreds of information her mind previously dismissed. She barely registered Mr. Agreste slowly withdrawing his hand from her slack grasp and shooting a look of concern over to Chat.

The shiny metal, the modeling contracts, the glass of spilled alcohol... her thoughts zipped from encounter to encounter of everyone she met that evening. Her breathing quickened.

“Ladybug?”

Chat's quiet voice snapped her out of the whirlpool of clues and as she met his eyes as the image of one figure rose to the forefront of her mind. She smiled.

“I have to check one more thing with someone,” she said, standing up and settling her hands upon her partner's shoulders and sending a confident smile toward the two men, “but I think I might have this case all but figured out. Hang tight, Mr. Agreste. We'll be back soon.”

And she grabbed Chat's hand and barreled out of the room, leaving a flummoxed designer staring after them in uncertainty.

“Whoa, slow down, Ladybug, where are you dragging me?” Chat all but howled as she marched down the hallway.

She released his arm. “Sorry,” she said as he rubbed his shoulder with a baleful glare at her. “I'm looking for Gwendolyn.”

“Lucrèce's model?”

“That's the one.”

“ _She_ killed him?” he squawked.

Ladybug shifted her weight. “I need to ask her something,” she deflected. “Ah, there she is!” She pointed over the crowd and took off without another word. Chat followed at a slower pace. When he caught up to her, she had pulled the model aside and asked her something in a low voice. Gwendolyn answered back and Ladybug's expression morphed into one of confident retribution – the same expression Chat had seen many times the instant she figured out the key solution to her Lucky Charm.

“Gwendolyn, I need you to get Kylian, Reed, and Kira together and head over to that hallway,” she told her.

“Okay, but why?” the model asked.

Ladybug leaned in and whispered something to her. Gwendolyn's eyes widened. “But you can't tell a single soul, okay? I don't want the killer to get spooked and run away.”

Gwendolyn nodded. “You got it, Ladybug,” she said and hurried away.

“What's going on?”

She felt a bit bad for her partner, looking so lost as she scampered around. “I'll tell you in a second,” she said. “I need to... ah, there he is!”

And without another word, she started off again. Chat sighed and followed after her. “Officer Raincomprix!” she called out to him. He turned. “I need you to get these people gathered in a room for me,” she said, plucking his notebook and pen out of his hands and scribbling down several names.

“Uh, okay, Ladybug, but why?”

“You'll see soon enough. Thank you, Officer!”

As the policeman gathered a few of his subordinates around him, Chat folded his arms and looked at Ladybug. “Okay now do you think you could fill me in on what's going on?”

She turned to him with a wide smile. “I know who killed Lucrèce Gilles.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the solution. If I've done my job properly, you guys should have all the clues needed to figure out the killer. Thanks for following so far! Special thank you to PerditaAlottachocolate for helping me with the clues and plot!


	6. Murder Mystery part 5

_Murder Mystery_

_Final Part (I promise!)_

"Okay, Ladybug, I've gathered everyone together in the room," Officer Raincomprix announced several minutes later. "What's all this about?"

"I'll show you," she said, marching off to the room. Behind her back, Chat shrugged in confusion at the officer. Once inside, her eyes swept over the people gathered.

Reed and Kylian huddled together on one end on hard-backed chairs, chatting in low voices, while Cyril Casimir and Aimée Béringer bridged the other end of the arc in plush overstuffed armchairs. Gwendolyn and Kira sat in the middle area on the couch together. Mayor Bourgeois stood nearby and a couple of other officers escorted Mr. Agreste in, flanking him on either side. He sat on a chair far away from everyone else, almost at the focal point of their rough half-circle. A couple of people eyed him in distrust as the tall designer was brought in, but no one said a word.

Everyone's attentions turned to Ladybug as she stood in the middle of the group.

"I know who killed Lucrèce Gilles," she announced. "And before any of you say a word, it is not Gabriel Agreste."

"Then who is it?" Officer Raincomprix asked.

"Didn't Gabriel confess?" Ms. Béringer asked. "Isn't that proof enough?"

Ladybug motioned for her partner to hand her the envelope, which he did in silence. She pulled out the letter. "Gabriel Agreste confessed to a crime he didn't commit. He was being threatened." She thought on it for a second. "Well, threatened by proxy, of course." She shook her head and her pigtails swayed with the motion. "Anyway, Mr. Agreste received this letter while we were talking with him. I managed to uhm... acquire it."

She refused to look at her idol, instead clearing her throat and reading the note aloud once more. "Gabriel Agreste. Confess to the murder of Lucrèce Gilles. If you don't, your son shall meet the same fate. I got to Lucrèce, and I can get to Adrien just as easily. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to him and his friend in the purple dress because of your stubborn arrogance." When she finished, a blanket of heavy silence fell upon the room. Several people looked aghast at the contents.

She folded up the letter and handed it back to Chat, giving the occupants of the room time to reflect upon the words. "I got to thinking," Ladybug said, "that this letter doesn't make any sense. There's a girl referenced in here with Adrien. A girl in a purple dress."

"Marinette," several voices chorused.

"She's wearing a Hawkmoth dress," Kylian said. He turned to Reed. "It's amazing."

Mr. Casimir nodded. "A revolutionary piece. Whomever designed it is a brilliant visionary."

Ladybug flushed and nodded. "Yes, right. Well, anyway, after talking to several people, I realized that these costumes are all kept secret. No one knows who is wearing which designer's creations. Mr. Agreste, she's listed as your guest. Did you know what she would be wearing?"

He shook his head. "No, I had no idea what she would be dressed as."

"He could be lying," Ms. Béringer said.

"He could be," Ladybug agreed, dipping her head to acknowledge the designer. "But he's not. I verified with several other people and Marinette's dress was kept secret from everyone until the moment she entered the room tonight."

"So what's your point?" Gwendolyn asked.

"It's obvious that the killer couldn't have known what Marinette was wearing until she actually showed up tonight. Which means this letter was written _after_ arriving to the charity auction this evening."

"Again, what's the point?" Kira chimed in.

Ladybug waved the letter. "Why not print it out ahead of time if the killer had planned to blackmail Gabriel Agreste into taking the fall for the murder this whole time? Why wait and print it out here? Why take the risk that someone could stumble in and ruin everything?"

She turned to Mr. Agreste and walked over to him. He eyed her warily. "Mr. Agreste, what were you doing alone with Mr. Gilles?"

He frowned at her. "We were discussing business," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she replied with a gentle chuckle, "I worded my question a bit weird. What I meant was _why_ were you alone with him?"

A slight glower joined the frown. "It was quieter in the room than out in the main venue."

"Ah, right. Did you just decide to go off alone in a secluded area on a whim?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "We were perfectly content out in the ballroom until –"

He cut off abruptly.

"Until what?" Ladybug prompted, feeling a small thread of victory. "What happened before you decided to move?"

Mr. Agreste lifted his hand up, staring at his ring. "I spilled my drink." The words came out in a hoarse whisper.

She nodded and turned back to the assembled group. " According to witnesses, someone bumped into Mr. Agreste, causing him to spill his drink all over his hand. He excused himself to clean up. Mr. Gilles followed to continue their conversation, and minutes later, Mr. Gilles was dead."

Mr. Agreste's face had paled considerably. He continued staring at his hand.

She took a bit of pity on him and placed one hand on his shoulder. He stared up in her eyes. She smiled and squeezed his shoulder, turning back to the group. "The reason the letter was printed out here, tonight, was because the killer had no intention of framing Gabriel Agreste for the murder of Lucrèce Gilles. Mr. Agreste was never intended to be a scapegoat for murder." She paused for a quick breath. "Gabriel Agreste was supposed to be the second victim."

Beside her, Chat sucked in a sharp gasp of air. That triggered a wave of astonished murmurs through the crowd.

"That was when I realized I had been thinking about this case all wrong," Ladybug continued, her voice rising above the chatter. The talking ceased when she continued her story. She released Mr. Agreste's shoulder and walked back to the middle of the room. "The moment I realized there should have been two victims and not one changed everything. I stopped thinking who wanted to kill Lucrèce Gilles and started thinking who wanted to kill _both_ Lucrèce Gilles _and_ Gabriel Agreste."

She walked over to the two remaining designers in the room: Cyril Casimir and Aimée Béringer. "And that just leaves you two with enough motive to want both of your rivals dead," she said softly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Ms. Béringer said with a scandalized laugh. "Why should I care if either Lucrèce or Gabriel dies? No offense, Gabriel," she added, shooting him a look.

The designer in question inclined his head. "None taken," he murmured in his usual soft voice.

Ms. Béringer continued. "Their deaths wouldn't mean anything to me anyway."

"Except both of your businesses are suffering. Eliminating two rivals would narrow the field, wouldn't it?"

"Nonsense! I'm working on a unique line that neither Gabriel nor Lucrèce ever dared to dabble in. My fashion house is financially secure," Ms. Béringer said.

Ladybug nodded in agreement. "And you, Mr. Casimir?"

He stared at her, his face darkening into a scowl. "What _about_ me?"

"Your line has experienced a downturn in profits, hasn't it?"

"I was also working on a separate line, ready to debut soon enough," he said.

"That happened quite suddenly," Ladybug remarked.

"I've had these plans in the works for a while," he said.

She smiled, though there was no friendliness in the action. "You were designing your latest line while partnered with Lucrèce Gilles?" The sweet, innocent way she asked that question contrasted sharply with the knowing confidence shining in her eyes. The models on the other side of the room gaped in surprise at this reveal. All but Gwendolyn, who watched with worry on her face.

Ms. Béringer stared at him. "You were Lucrèce's former partner?" she questioned, her expression one of astonishment.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, shifting in his chair. "Why would I work with Lucrèce Gilles?"

"Because your company was suffering," Ladybug supplied in a low voice. "He offered you a chance to collaborate on a new line and you accepted."

Mr. Casimir said nothing, sitting in stony silence.

"But Mr. Agreste was Lucrèce Gilles' partner," Chat said after a moment of no one speaking.

Ladybug turned to him with a grateful smile. "Ah, but if you recall, Mr. Agreste told us that Mr. Gilles originally had a different partner."

"That's right!" Chat exclaimed. "He said that Mr. Gilles originally had a partner but that he ended their partnership when Mr. Gilles didn't feel their... what did he say?"

"Their visions didn't match," Mr. Agreste supplied in a quiet voice. Everyone's eyes snapped to him. "Lucrèce never revealed who his previous partner was, but he did confide that there was someone he briefly teamed up with prior to me."

All eyes drifted back to Mr. Casimir. "That person was you," Ladybug said in an equally soft voice. "I verified it with an employee at Lucrèce Gilles' company who has access to those records." She resisted the urge to glance over at Gwendolyn, not wanting to reveal the young woman's assistance in front of the crowd.

"So what if I was Lucrèce's former partner?" Mr. Casimir asked, his face tinting red with anger. "That doesn't mean I killed him. I wasn't anywhere near him when he died."

"You didn't have to be," Ladybug said. She turned back around. "Mr. Agreste," she addressed him again, "what were you and Mr. Gilles drinking tonight?"

Mr. Agreste pursed his lips for a moment, thinking back on the evening. "Amaretto on the rocks," he said at last. "Not my first choice, but Lucrèce loved them and it would be impolite to refuse his offer."

Ladybug smiled at him and redirected her attention back to Mr. Casimir. "Didn't you order amaretto on the rocks earlier this evening?"

"Well that's where you're wrong, Ladybug," Ms. Béringer cut in. "Cyril's drink of choice is bourbon."

Ladybug merely continued staring at Mr. Casimir, awaiting his response. "We have witnesses who can verify your order at the bar tonight," she added when it appeared he wasn't going to answer.

He huffed. "So what if I did?" he scoffed.

"Cyanide has a very distinctive scent," she said.

"Almonds," Chat Noir added.

She nodded. "Amaretto is an almond liqueur. What better way to disguise the smell than in a vehicle that wouldn't be noticed?"

"If amaretto would mask the scent of the poison, how did you know cyanide was used in the first place?" Kira asked. "After all, wouldn't it have been difficult to tell the two apart?"

Mr. Casimir waved his hand at her. "She brings up a very good point."

"Cyanide's smell is only one feature of the poison," Ladybug said. "It has several other characteristics, among them include a bright red skin hue and blue-tinged lips. Mr. Gilles' body had both of these features. But we're getting off track. You ordered the drinks one by one to not attract suspicion by ordering two simultaneously. After that, it wouldn't have been hard to place them on a tray and direct one of the servers to bring them to Mr. Agreste and Mr. Gilles. Things hit a snag when only Mr. Gilles died, but hey, it might end up working in your favor, right?"

He glowered silently at her. Beside him, Ms. Béringer looked back and forth between him and Ladybug. Her expression slowly turning to stunned disbelief the more the hero presented her case.

"You heard that Gabriel Agreste was being held on the suspicion of murder," she kept going. "That would suit your needs well enough. You probably were content to remain the shadows and watch this play out, correct?"

"What changed?" Reed asked, intrigued.

Mr. Casimir directed his glare to the young model. "Alienating a potential employer is not in your best interest," he said, his voice glacial. "Lucrèce eliminated your contract and from what I've heard you've not signed with a new company."

Reed flushed.

Oddly, it was Mr. Agreste who stepped in at this point. "Of course not, Cyril," he cut in, his own voice a simmer of barely controlled anger as he fixated upon the man, "Lucrèce and I couldn't possibly sign on the new models without the legal division drawing up new contracts first."

Kylian and Reed gaped at the taller designer. "Wait, we were supposed to model for your new cooperative line?" Kylian asked.

A look of confusion flashed across Mr. Agreste's face. "Didn't Lucrèce inform you?"

The two boys exchanged sheepish glances. "We were only told we would be modeling for a new project, but we didn't know it was the one you and he were working on together," Reed answered.

Annoyance replaced confusion as Mr. Agreste folded his arms and settled back against the chair. "Leave it to Lucrèce to omit the important details," he mumbled.

Satisfied that she wasn't going to be interrupted again, Ladybug resumed her explanation. "To answer your question, Reed, what changed is Chat and I arrived on the scene. Rumors quickly spread that we were assisting with the investigation. That's when Mr. Casimir decided he needed to end this as fast as possible. The longer we lingered at the scene of the crime, the more likely it is we would have uncovered something vital."

Chat stepped forward, sensing where she was taking this. "So he slipped into a back office behind the main desk and strung together this little note." Chat fluttered the envelope. "And from there it would be easy enough to slip it to a waiter to deliver to Gabriel Agreste."

"He had to make it seem like he could access Adrien at any time. By threatening Marinette as well, he let it be known that he was still in the building – and could strike at any moment," Ladybug said.

"We have video evidence of you entering and leaving the room," Chat added.

"Gabriel is devoted to his family, as everyone in this industry knows," Ms. Béringer murmured, twirling fingers around her necklace as her eyes lost their sharp focus, her mind seemingly drifting far away. "It makes sense to use his son as leverage to confess."

Mr. Casimir twisted around and stared at her in indignation. "Aimée, you can't possibly believe these accusations!"

Ms. Béringer dropped her hand from her necklace and turned her head to him. "Well I certainly don't _want_ to believe them, Cyril," she insisted, ignoring his scandalized expression, "but Ladybug has brought up some very good points. I don't want to believe you could turn into a killer, but the fact is you _have_ changed since we –" She cut herself off abruptly and deflected her eyes. "Well, for a while now," she finished in a soft voice.

With lips pursed in agitation, Mr. Casimir turned back around and stared at Ladybug. "All of what you've said is pure conjecture. I can't have been the only one to order amaretto tonight. And I know I'm not the only one who disliked Lucrèce. If my face was truly caught on camera like you claim, you wouldn't be going through this farce right now. What proof do you have for any of this?"

Chat tensed up beside her, realizing for the first time that the accused designer was correct. He slid his eyes over to her. She smiled, almost predatory, and her partner relaxed at her confidence.

"I told you earlier I researched cyanide," she began. "In addition to their smell and the state of a body, I uncovered a few more interesting tidbits. For instance, did you know that cyanide is widely used in the jewelry industry? Being a designer would allow you ample access to getting some from your own jewelry lines."

"So could anyone else here," Mr. Casimir pointed out. "Again, all conjecture."

"True," she conceded. She shifted directions slightly. "The one thing the police have yet to find is how Mr. Agreste supposedly transported the cyanide here tonight, is that correct, Officer Raincomprix?"

The policeman shifted on his feet at being directly addressed by Ladybug. "Uh, that's correct, ma'am. We've searched the susp- uh, Mr. Agreste and didn't uncover any sign of cyanide on him."

She nodded, expecting that answer. "Do you know why jewelers use cyanide?" she asked Mr. Casimir. He frowned and remained silent. "They use it in their electroplating baths to shine jewelry." She glanced over to Mr. Agreste, whose eyes returned to his hand, once again fixated upon his ring.

The elder Agreste chuckled in understanding, though it was dark and humorless. "So that's why you asked if my drink had gotten on my ring," he said.

"And how I knew you were intended to be a target as well," she added. She turned back to Mr. Casimir and pointed to the silver pocketwatch stretched across his vest. "When you arrived tonight, that watch of yours was a bit dull. It was tarnished and lusterless." All eyes focused upon the watch. "Now, it's rather shiny and bright."

"Even catching the light on the security camera!" Chat crowed, snapping his fingers in realization.

Ladybug smiled at him. "Exactly. Mr. Casimir transported the cyanide here tonight in his pocketwatch. Some of it must have spilled onto the exterior. Don't try to deny that, Mr. Casimir. There are plenty of photos taken tonight that we can compare your initial arrival with your current state."

"Trick of the light," he shot back.

"Then you won't mind if the police test your pocketwatch for cyanide residue?" Ladybug asked.

Mayor Bourgeois walked over to the door and stepped outside. "Let me make a phone call and we'll have a warrant issued immediately." He returned a couple of minutes later. "The judge is going to approve it. I've sent one of the policemen out to collect it." Chat handed the envelope off to one of the officers, who secured it in a plastic evidence bag.

Ms. Béringer covered her mouth with one hand as the finality of the accusation sank in at last. "Why, Cyril?" she asked, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Why do you think, Aimée?" he snapped back at her, then immediately turned away as if ashamed of his outburst.

Ms. Béringer lowered her hand into her lap. "Twelve percent decline isn't that bad of a dip in profits," she continued. "You could have easily made up the difference and more with a decent unveiling. You've always had such brilliant ideas."

"It wasn't enough," Mr. Casimir replied, turning his head back around but not quite meeting her eyes. "My business has been on a steady decline for several years now." He raised his eyes to meet Mr. Agreste's. "In a cruel twist of fate, my designs started to slip just around the time that Gabriel found his niche. This partnership with Lucrèce was supposed to be my ticket back in. And then midway through he informs me that he's severing the agreement. He didn't believe our ideas meshed together and he had made a mistake."

"You could have come to me," Ms. Béringer said. "I could have partnered with you on a project."

Mr. Casimir barked out a bitter laugh. "Doing what, Aimée? Dresses for the modern lady isn't exactly my style."

"How about infants?"

He threw her a puzzled look. "Pardon?"

"That's my latest line. Infant and toddler clothes," Ms. Béringer explained. "For the modern lady, of course," she added, a hint of sarcasm to her words, but her heart wasn't into the backhanded insult. "You could have come to me. You didn't have to resort to," she waved her hand around, "this."

Mr. Casimir didn't say anything to that.

Ladybug picked up the story. "So when you saw that Mr. Gilles had selected Gabriel Agreste as his newest partner, you decided to kill them both?"

That brought him back to the present. He nodded in defeat. "Gabriel didn't even _need_ the partnership. His company is doing just fine on its own." His voice dripped with disdain. "That was supposed to be _my_ ticket back to the top. _My_ chance. And Lucrèce threw it all in my face. Told me my ideas were progressive, but not a fit for his own vision."

"You threatened my son," Mr. Agreste said, and Ladybug nearly recoiled at the righteous fury that burned in his eyes. He kept his face smoothed to neutrality, but his eyes betrayed his emotions.

Mr. Casimir looked over to him. "I wasn't going to hurt Adrien, or his girlfriend," he added. "I've nothing against him. I knew you would cave the moment even a hint of danger were to come up. I just needed you to confess."

Mr. Agreste didn't look convinced, but before he could say anything else, Officer Raincomprix stepped forward to arrest Mr. Casimir. As he led the black-clad designer away, Mayor Bourgeois turned to Mr. Agreste and began to babble out apologies and excuses. The formerly accused designer remained silent, apparently ignoring the mayor. His apologies increased in fervor the longer Mr. Agreste sat in silence.

Ms. Béringer stood a few minutes after Mr. Casimir departed. "Excuse me," she mumbled. "I... should go." And though she hadn't said as much, Ladybug could tell from the anguish on her face that whatever past relationship she might have had with Mr. Casimir still burned in her heart. Ms. Béringer ignored all of the sympathetic gazes upon her and walked to the doors, looking as if she carried the very weight of the world upon her shoulders. Ladybug stepped over on instinct to try to offer some support, but before she could, Mr. Agreste stood up, cutting off the mayor mid-apology, and intercepted his colleague. His fingers brushed against his bowtie, seemingly on reflex, before he lowered his hand and spoke a few words in a quiet voice that didn't carry throughout the rest of the room.

Ms. Béringer nodded. "I know," she said, her own voice thick with suppressed tears. "Thank you, Gabriel." She reached over and gave his arm a brief squeeze and a watery smile. Then, without another word, dropped her hand and disappeared through the door.

Ladybug quirked an eyebrow at Chat, who watched the entire exchange with open-mouthed awe. He caught her eye and shrugged, just as baffled as she was by the uncharacteristic display of kindness from his father.

Mr. Agreste next approached Gwendolyn. "I know Lucrèce was training you to take over his business areas," he said, and the other models stared at her with wide eyes even as a faint blush colored her dark cheeks. "I would like to continue with Lucrèce's plan and release our line, with your cooperation, of course."

"C-certainly, Mr. Agreste," she replied.

He nodded in satisfaction. "My assistant will be in touch with you the day after tomorrow."

As he stepped away, the others pounced.

"How long has this been in the works?" Kira asked.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Kylian followed up.

Gwendolyn's blush deepened. " Lucrèce sponsored my education," she explained. "He knew ever since I was a teen that my dream was to manage a company, not model. I finished my degree this past spring and I've been sort of interning under him ever since as he showed me the ins and outs of the business."

"So that's how you knew about our contracts," Reed mused.

She bobbed her head. "Yes. It's obvious now why I wasn't able to see your new contracts, but at the time I had no idea."

"Well, congratulations, Gwendolyn!" Kira gushed, triggering a round of heartfelt congratulations from her friends. "You're going to do amazing."

As her friends continued to congratulate her, Mr. Agreste approached the two heroes. "Thank you for your help in clearing my name," he began, his voice low and quiet, "but I am anxious to see my son. Do you happen to know where he is?"

Chat fidgeted, but Ladybug nodded with a smile. "I told him and Marinette to stay in one of the empty rooms on the other side of the hotel," she explained. "I didn't want anyone to know where they were."

"Thank you." He turned and headed to the door.

Chat Noir motioned to her and she nodded. The message was clear. They needed to get out before Gabriel Agreste discovered Adrien.

"Well, thank you all for everything, but we really must be going," Ladybug said. Before anyone could say anything else, she slipped past Mr. Agreste and out the door. Chat Noir followed on her heels. Risking a glance behind her, she spotted Mayor Bourgeois once again accosting Mr. Agreste with apologies, much to the visible displeasure of the fashion mogul. Hopefully the mayor's desperate backpedaling could buy them enough time to settle into a room.

And there was one other thing she needed to do as well...

She grabbed Chat's arm and led him down another set of hallways, where she tested each door before uncovering another unlocked room about halfway down. She darted inside and flicked on the lights, thankful to discover another comfortable room like earlier. This would make their explanation of hiding here all evening more believable than if it was a broom closet or something.

"Wait, Ladybug," Chat said, pulling out of her grasp. "We have to get to Marinette. My father is expecting both of us to be together."

"In a minute, Chat," she assured him. "There's a couple of things I need to talk to you about first."

He bit his lip as he glanced behind him at the door. "Okay, but make it quick," he said. "I don't know how much time we have." He dropped his transformation with a rush of expelled air and his kwami flew out and peered at Ladybug for a second before zipping on top of the brim of his oversized hat. The cat-like green eyes watched her in silence. "There. That way if my father comes in at least it's better than if we're both still transformed. So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

His vibrant green eyes, so wide and innocent, locked onto hers as he stared at her and waited for her to speak. Her mouth dried up. She couldn't do this. What if he got angry that she hadn't said anything right away? What if he said he no longer cared about her because she deceived him?

"Ladybug?" Adrien's gentle prompting snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Marinette has a crush on you," she blurted out, then winced. That wasn't exactly how she wanted to reveal _that_ tidbit.

Adrien's eyebrows rose. "Really? What makes you say that?" He was more curiously amused than taking her seriously, but there was a hint of something about him – some faint aura of hope even as he attempted to act nonchalant.

She couldn't screw this up now. "That's why she's always stuttering around you," she said. "She gets too flustered in your presence and her words all jumble together."

"Oh." Adrien thought on that for a couple of seconds. "But she was so comfortable around Chat Noir. And Kylian," he added, bitter and dejected. "Does that mean she doesn't like Chat Noir?"

"No! She's totally fine with Chat!"

Adrien frowned at her quick assurance. Erm, maybe she was a bit _too_ hasty in her response. "Really?" he drawled, the doubt clear in his voice.

She nodded frantically. "Yes, really," she declared. "She has a huge crush on Adrien, but she feels a close friendship with Chat Noir, so that's why she's more comfortable joking and teasing with him. She must have just thought Kylian was the real Chat Noir."

The frown remained, but the disbelief was starting to fade. "So, she likes me?"

"Yes."

"Really likes me?"

"Yes!"

"And you say she's comfortable around Chat Noir... why again?"

"Because he's her friend."

Adrien tilted his head and the feather flopped over to one side. "But I haven't really ever interacted with her before as Chat Noir," he protested, puzzled by the explanation. "Maybe once or twice, but certainly not often enough to be considered a close friend or anything like that. How do you know this?"

She took a deep breath. "Because..." she closed her eyes and muttered the words to drop her transformation, "because I'm Marinette."

She waited in silence, her eyes still pressed tight. Eventually, the quiet became too much to handle so she cracked one eye open and peeked up at him. He stared at her, jaw dropped as his eyes roved over her entire figure. He blinked several times, as if not believing the sight in front of him.

"Adrien?" she ventured in a tiny voice.

That snapped him out of his stupor. "Marinette? You're Ladybug?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "I really wanted to tell you earlier," she said. "I'm sorry I had to keep it such a secret."

He stepped forward and lifted one tentative hand toward her before drawing it back. She reached out and snatched it, squeezing it lightly in her hands. He stared down at it, then back up at her. Suddenly, his lips quirked into a grin. "So, you have a crush on me, huh?"

She dropped his hands with an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Adrien, you have quite the talent for ruining a moment."

He closed the distance between them and cupped her cheeks, turning her face towards his. "I'm sorry, my lady," he murmured in a husky tone and her knees turned into jelly. "How can I make it up to you?"

She bit her lip, watching the way his eyes followed the movement. "Extra patrol?" she suggested lightly.

"Mmm," he acknowledged with a noncommittal grunt, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her suggestion. "What would I be patrolling?" His thumbs stroked her cheeks with feather-light pressure. She sucked in a breath. Her heartbeat quickened. She was certain he could feel it beneath his hands, but he didn't say anything. Only continued to alternate his smoldering gaze between her eyes and her lips.

"Maybe..." Whatever she had been about to say died in her throat as Adrien lowered his face to meet her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she waited for the inevitable – for the warmth of his lips upon hers.

The door crashed open and the teens jumped apart.

"Adrien!" Mr. Agreste stood in the doorway.

"Father!" Adrien exclaimed, his cheeks burning bright red. Marinette was certain she matched him.

Mr. Agreste strode into the room and Marinette winced as she waited for him to say something about what he had almost witnessed. Her heart hammered in her chest, but this time for a completely different reason. The designer reached Adrien in a few long strides. Without another word, he enveloped his son into a hug. Adrien froze in astonishment for a minute before wrapping his arms around his father and returning the hug just as fierce. "You're okay?" Mr. Agreste asked, pulling away and staring at his son. He placed his hands firmly upon his son's shoulders. Adrien nodded. Mr. Agreste shifted his attention to Marinette. "And you? You're okay, too?"

"Uhm, yeah, just fine," she chirped out, surprised that he cared enough to inquire as to her safety as well.

"Good, good," the taller man said. He squeezed Adrien's shoulders. "I'm glad you are safe."

"Ladybug and Chat Noir explained what was going on," Marinette said. "So everything is okay now? You've been cleared?"

He nodded at her. "Yes. Miss Marinette, I must thank you for getting Ladybug up to speed on everything. Your assistance was surely invaluable to her."

"Ah, you're welcome, Mr. Agreste," she replied.

Mr. Agreste squeezed Adrien's shoulders one last time before dropping his hands. "Shall we go back out and join the festivities? I believe they're going to announce the winners for tonight shortly."

"That would be great, Father."

As Mr. Agreste led the way out of the room, Marinette reached forward and tugged on Adrien's hand. "Guess I know where your talent for ruining moments comes from," she teased with a wink, bringing forth a light blush to his cheeks.

It turned out that Mr. Agreste's talent for ruining moments carried through the rest of that evening. He refused to let Adrien (and by proxy, Marinette) out of his sight for even a moment. Every time Adrien stepped close to her and tried to grab her hand, a glance from his father made him drop it in embarrassment. He tried to sneak a quick peck on the cheek when Mr. Agreste's back was turned, but that was ruined when Alya and Nino bounded over to them.

"Marinette, guess what!" she exclaimed.

Adrien jerked away even as Marinette reigned in a sigh of disappointment. "What, Alya?"

"Ladybug and Chat Noir are here!" she all but shrieked.

Marinette snorted. "No offense, Alya, but I already knew that."

"No, girl, I mean they're here _in their civilian forms_ ," Alya said, the last bit coming out in a stage whisper. Adrien's eyes widened, but Alya didn't notice. Her exclamation even caught Mr. Agreste's attention as he turned back around to face the group.

"Uhm, why would you say that?" she asked, aware of the sudden interest in their conversation.

"Because no one saw them enter or leave the hotel," Alya explained. "They both arrived here really fast and afterward couldn't be found at all. And there were people guarding the rooftop after they arrived so they wouldn't be harassed when they left, but the guards said that no one came up to the roof."

A waiter came up then with a tray of drinks. "What is that?" Alya asked, flagging him down.

He stopped. "Water, Miss."

"I'll take it!" Alya reached over and snagged two glasses, chugging one almost immediately. She replaced it on the tray. "Ah, thank you! Man, this journalist stuff is making me thirsty."

"Maybe if you didn't spend all evening debating theories with everyone, your throat wouldn't be so dry," Nino remarked from beside her.

She shot him a dirty look. "Those people didn't know the first thing about Ladybug and Chat Noir."

"Except that one model," he pointed out.

Alya bit her lip. "Well, yeah," she conceded. "Except her."

The waiter offered the tray to everyone else. Mr. Agreste tensed when the tray was presented to him, and he shook his head to decline, keeping his hands firmly clasped behind his back. His eyes followed after the glasses as the waiter departed. Marinette exchanged a worried look with Adrien. Clearly, it would take a long time for Gabriel Agreste to shake any lingering paranoia from tonight's attempt on his life.

"So," Alya said, drawing all of their attentions back to her. She pointed with the hand holding the glass between Marinette and Adrien. "What's going on with you two?" A devilish smile accompanied her inquiry.

"Alya!" Marinette hissed. Her friend raised her glass to her lips with an unabashed smile. "Nothing is going on between us!"

"Really?" Alya teased.

"Really?" Adrien echoed in a hurt tone. Insecurity shone in his eyes.

"Ah, I mean uh, well... uh..." she sighed and relented. "We haven't exactly talked about it yet," she mumbled.

"So there _is_ something going on?" Alya probed.

"Uhm... maybe?" She peeked over to Adrien, happy to see some of the worry melting away.

"What do you say about that, Sunshine Boy?"

"Me?" Adrien squawked.

Alya waved her glass around. "I don't see anyone else here who fits that description. Fess up, Agreste. What are your plans for my girl?"

Adrien choked on nothing. "I don't have _plans_ for Marinette!"

"You don't?" Now it was her turn to be hurt. Did he really not want to be with her? She had thought with their brief interactions that evening that he harbored some feelings for her. What about that grand speech he gave on why he grilled Kylian? Was that all just a lie? Would he rather hold her up to the perfection that is Ladybug?

"I-I mean, like you said, we haven't really talked about it," Adrien explained. Some of her own insecurity faded away as she stared at him, seeing the sincerity and devotion in his face.

"You got mouths, don't you?" Alya said. "So talk."

She squawked and blushed at her friend's blunt assessment.

Adrien, however, frowned in disapproval. "What exactly have you had to drink tonight?" he questioned, and for another snapshot moment in time, he eerily reflected the stern countenance of his father.

"Water and juice," Alya answered glibly. "I'm high on life right now."

"Uh-huh." He folded his arms in disbelief and turned to Nino.

Nino held up his hands in surrender. "I swear, dude, she hasn't had anything stronger than ginger ale."

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?" Marinette asked.

"You two were locked in a room together for hours by Ladybug and Chat Noir," Alya said, and both Marinette and Adrien blushed bright red at that. "Trust me, I know how that can change feelings."

Seeing as they probably weren't going to get out of anything soon, Adrien sighed and reached for Marinette's hand. She squeaked as he squeezed it. "Marinette, would you be my girlfriend?" he asked.

"Yes," she breathed out. Then flushed and peeked over to Mr. Agreste, having forgotten that he was there for a moment. He seemed oddly amused by the scene in front of him. "Uhm, I mean, if that's okay with you, sir?"

Adrien appeared to have forgotten about his father's presence as well, for he turned around, still clutching Marinette's hands in his. "Is it okay, Father?"

"Why are you asking me?" Mr. Agreste said, and Marinette definitely heard amusement in there now. "I think Miss Marinette should be the one to decide if she wants to date you."

His spirits brightening, Adrien turned back to Marinette. Mischief sparkled in his eyes, and the sultry smile normally seen on the lips of her partner appeared and launched her heart into oblivion. "My dear Marinette," he said in a sultry voice that weakened her knees. He slid closer. "Would you grant me the highest honor of being my girlfriend?"

"Yes," she repeated, giggling at him.

"Jeez, Agreste," Alya broke in, "you certainly know how to go all out. It's not like you're proposing."

Adrien slid a sly grin her way. "Yet," he teased, reaching forward and snagging Marinette's hand in his. He pressed his lips against her knuckles.

Marinette meeped in surprise even as Nino groaned. "Dude, you're giving the rest of us a bad rep."

Adrien's face broke out into the biggest smile at that, sparking a flame of warmth that spread throughout her entire body. He reached up and cupped her cheek once more with tender affection. He bent his head down over her lips.

"Attention, ladies and gentlemen," a booming voice announced.

Adrien jumped away once more, releasing a feral growl. Her heart constricted in her chest at the loss of his closeness. They turned to the voice to discover a man standing up on the balcony of the stairs overlooking the crowd.

"It is time to announce the winners of this year's charity auction! But first, let me offer a sincere congratulations to each and every one of you for your generous donations to our various listings of different charities. This year was our most successful year ever, raising over two million euros!"

Polite applause and more than one rambunctious cheer rippled through the crowd. The free champagne clearly having taken its toll on several people. The announcer waited for the crowd to quiet before resuming his speech.

"Before I get to the winners, I would just like to address several rumors that have been circulating this evening." Beside her, Mr. Agreste stiffened. Adrien watched his father with concern. "As you may have heard, the fashion world lost one of its own tonight. Lucrèce Gilles sadly passed away earlier this evening. Gabriel Agreste very nearly lost his life as well, but fortunately survived the attempt on him. Tonight, we dedicate the fashions shown here and the success of the evening to the memory of Lucrèce Gilles. If I could have everyone raise their glasses in a memorial toast."

The announcer lifted a glass handed to him by a waiter. Alya and Nino lifted their glasses, as did everyone who had one in their hands. Those who didn't have anything to raise lowered their heads instead. Marinette and Adrien followed Mr. Agreste's lead and bowed their heads.

"To Lucrèce Gilles. A pioneer whose flame burned bright and extinguished too soon. The fashion world, and indeed the entire world, mourns your loss." He paused. "To Lucrèce Gilles."

The crowd echoed the sentiment in a subdued murmur. There was a long period of silence before the announcer resumed his cheerful speech.

"And now, for the moment you've been waiting for! I'll first announce the designer whose designs raised the largest total amount for charity. When I announce the name, I would like the designer to join me up here and the models representing their designs stand on the stairs beside me. And then the winner who received the highest single bid also join me up here."

That last bit seemed unnecessary to Marinette, because where else would the winner go? But she supposed they added it in there as a precaution.

"Now, without further ado," the announcer continued. "The winner of tonight's cumulative total is... Gabriel Agreste!"

Marinette clapped loudly along with Adrien, Alya and Nino. "Congratulations, Mr. Agreste," she exclaimed.

He turned to them with a tiny smile. "Thank you, Miss Marinette. Come on, you three, let's head on up."

Marinette scooted to one side to make room for them. The tall designer threaded his way through the crowd, the people parting for him as they cheered and clapped. As they climbed up the stairs and Mr. Agreste took his place beside the announcer, Adrien, Alya, and Nino all staggered themselves on the steps to show off his designs as best as they could.

"Congratulations, Mr. Agreste," the announcer said. "Mr. Agreste's four designs raised a total of €210.000 for charity." He rattled off a few more facts about the designs to allow the crowd ample time to admire them.

"And now the winner of the individual design," his voice boomed over the crowd. "Raising €85.000, this young designer's visionary masterpiece certainly captured everyone's attentions. Let's give it up for Marinette Dupain-Cheng!"

She gasped in surprise, locking eyes with Adrien from across the room. He beamed at her, clapping wildly. On the stairs, Alya and Nino hopped up and down in giddy excitement. In a daze, she slowly made her way through the crowd and ascended the stairs. Adrien squeezed her hand as she passed.

"Congratulations, Marinette," he said.

"Thanks," she whispered to him.

On the little balcony stage, Mr. Agreste smiled at her. "Congratulations, Miss Marinette," he said, his voice low enough not to be caught on the microphone.

"Thank you, Mr. Agreste! Congratulations again to you as well!"

They were unable to exchange anymore words at the moment because the announcer started up his speech to the crowd again.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng designed her own dress and almost immediately received a flurry of bids. The bidding was fierce until the final moments of the night, but the ultimate winner of this breathtaking creation is... Mr. Jagged Stone!"

She gasped as his name was read aloud. "Mr. Stone?" she breathed out.

"Yes!" His familiar shout carried over the crowd. The people parted and formed a small space around the gloating rock star. "I told you I would win that dress, Marinette! It's totally rock-and-roll! Just wait until my next music video comes out and you'll see how rock-and-roll your dress looks in it!"

A soft sigh beside her pulled her attention away from Jagged Stone. "I confess I am a bit disappointed my confinement prevented me from bidding further on your design," Mr. Agreste admitted. "I was really hoping to snag that masterpiece."

"O-oh!" She didn't know what to say to that. "I can always make you another?"

He smiled but shook his head. "I wouldn't dream of stealing away Mr. Stone's prize. But perhaps next year I'll get another chance at one of your creations."

"N-next year?" she stammered.

"Of course. Unless you're not planning to enter again."

"I hadn't thought about it, honestly."

"You have all year," he replied, and then was forced to quiet down again as the announcer once again presented them one final time to the crowd. Mr. Agreste held out his hand to her and she accepted it. He raised their arms upward and then bowed to the crowd, like a performer. Marinette watched him out of the corner of her eye and followed his lead. He released her hand and motioned ahead of him on the stairs, where she was promptly engulfed by her friends in endless hugs.

Under Mr. Agreste's guiding hands, they carefully made their way down the stairs where they continued to gush over Marinette's dress. Several people came over and congratulated both Mr. Agreste and her. Adrien pulled her aside as Mr. Agreste deflected a lot of the more overwhelming admirers away from her. He stepped behind the staircase, partially hidden from the rest of the crowd.

"Congratulations again, Marinette," he breathed out.

"Thanks!" she gushed, and she wasn't certain if the flush in her cheeks was from excitement or Adrien's presence. Probably both, she concluded.

He gently weaved one hand around her neck and pulled her close. "I'd like to finish what I started earlier," he murmured.

"I'd like that," she whispered back to him.

Her eyes closed.

"Marinette!"

She bit back a growl of frustration as _once again_ they were interrupted. Adrien pulled away, and she could see the irritation and disappointment in his eyes. She plastered a smile on her face and turned to the voice.

"Mr. Stone," she exclaimed, her fake smile turning into a genuine one. Much of the tension drained out of Adrien as well as he beamed happily at his favorite singer.

"That dress is fantastic," he crowed. "I can't wait to show you my rock-and-roll vision involving it! It's going to be number one, double platinum in a _week_ once it's released. You remember that, Marinette."

"Uh, I will, Mr. Stone. Thank you for bidding on my dress."

They spent several more minutes chatting about the dress and the logistics of getting Jagged to acquire it. He ended up just waving a hand with a muttered "Penny will take care of it" and that ended that conversation. Once that was ironed out, Mr. Agreste came back over and Marinette spent the rest of the evening pretty much glued to his side as they were forced to make small talk and receive endless congratulations and praises on their designs.

Kylian, Reed, Kira and Gwendolyn all came over and offered their congratulations. Kylian looked especially smug as he was one of the only ones to know that Marinette had designed her own dress. From Reed's eye rolls, it appeared his friend had yet to let him forget that fact, too.

She didn't see Aimée Béringer anywhere, and suspected the designer had slipped out of the crowd immediately after Cyril Casimir's arrest.

It was all very enthralling and a dream come true for her.

Also very exhausting.

So when at last the guests began to filter out, Mr. Agreste grouped them together. He offered a ride to Marinette, and while she normally wouldn't have accepted, she was struggling to keep her eyes open and wasn't even sure she could walk home in a coherent state.

On her way out, the lady that had registered her for the event caught her eye and offered her congratulations. She thanked her profusely, once again grateful the lady allayed her fears so very early in the night.

They rode the short distance to her bakery in silence, mostly because all of them were on the verge of just passing out (and in Nino and Alya's cases, _actually_ passing out propped up against each other). She stifled a yawn as they rolled up to the front of the bakery.

"Thank you again, Mr. Agreste," she said.

"You're welcome," he returned as she slid out of the car.

She unlocked the side door and was about to step inside when she heard someone call out her name.

"Marinette!"

She turned around.

Adrien had climbed out of the car and jogged over to her. He had ditched the oversized hat and his blond hair gleamed in the streetlights.

"Yeah?" she asked.

He cupped her face in his hands, bent down, and swiftly pressed his lips against hers. He lingered there as her eyes fluttered shut and she reveled in the warmth and softness of his touch upon her. He pulled away after a brief moment – far too brief – and smiled.

"Good night, Marinette," he breathed out.

"Good night, Adrien."

With that brilliant smile on his face, he returned to the car, peering over his shoulder one last time to wave at her. She waved back with a dopey smile and the car drove away.

Once upstairs in her room, after having spent several minutes hanging up her costume and preparing for sleep, she flopped down on her bed, certain the dopey smile would remain a permanent fixture on her face forever more.

"Wow, Tikki," she mumbled. "What a night."

Her kwami giggled. "What a night indeed, Marinette. Get some sleep."

And so she did, turning over on her side and closing her eyes, allowing the warm memories of the evening to lull her to sleep.

_The end_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest thank you in the world goes to PerditaAlottachocolate for beta'ing this and helping brainstorm and plot through a lot of aspects of this story. Also, a huge thank you to everyone who read this and seemed to enjoy the mystery! I hope the ending and mystery part was satisfying! You guys had many good guesses and theories and I was excited to see people trying to figure it out.
> 
> I didn't write this the entire way through before posting, which is something I don't like to do, but due to the Spooktober prompts I had to get something out. I overestimated my ability to keep on a better schedule. I did have the outline sketched out, and a listing of various clues. However, there are a few things right away that I would have changed if given the chance.
> 
> I would have written something about a waiter bringing over two glasses to Gabriel and Lucrèce, even if it was a bit earlier in the scene so it wouldn't be obvious, rather than already having them hold their glasses and the delivery happened off-screen. I fixated upon the shiny jewelry giving away the clue to cyanide, but probably should have included a hint of a waiter bringing over drinks earlier.
> 
> Also, I probably would have brought up Cyril Casimir and Aimée Béringer's 'motive' conversation a bit later. As it was, I was kind of stuck with what I should have them talk about in the second encounter (other than Cyril Casimir deflecting attention from himself and attempting to place more blame upon Gabriel). I had a backstory plotted out for how Aimée Béringer's unique relationship with Gabriel Agreste happened, but it didn't really fit in with the story and really only served as my motivation for the character to act the way she does. I wouldn't have brought it up at all, but I was running out of things to have them talk about!
> 
> Those are two big issues I personally had with this story, but I felt it was cheating to go back and change chapters once they were posted because it wouldn't be fair to you readers. Please let me know if there are any other loose ends I forgot to tie up, or lingering questions that weren't answered, or anything I missed. I scoured over this chapter in the beginning to make sure I addressed every clue I dropped or hinted at, and my beta also kept an eye out for these things as well. I think I got them all, but please let me know if I missed anything.
> 
> Also please let me know what worked and what didn't work for the mystery! I really would like your input on how I can improve writing a mystery in the future.
> 
> Additionally, I used a random name generator for all the OCs in this story, so any puns were unintentional. I know a few of you were hoping Kill-ian would be the murderer, and I'm a bit annoyed that didn't come to mind when I was writing it in the first place, or I certainly would have switched a few names around! However, Cyril Casimir's Grim Reaper costume was actually intentional ;)

**Author's Note:**

> A very special thank you to [PerditaAlottachocolate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerditaAlottachocolate) for helping me with the mystery, laughing at the fact that I thought I could write said mystery in a single 3000-word prompt, and beta-reading my stuff for me. Do check out a few of her new works, [Love Potion no. 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157120/chapters/37752110) and [Up to Date](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15990485/chapters/37305257).


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